


Red Battalion, Blue Regiment

by tinfoiljones



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Brain Damage, F/F, F/M, Grif and Simmons are married, M/M, Mental Health Issues, ODST Sarge, Red Team Locus, SPARTAN Program, SPARTAN-III Caboose, SPARTAN-IV Donut, The UNSC leaves the Reds and Blues to the mercy of the Army, most of the relationships in the tags are command teams not romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:55:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinfoiljones/pseuds/tinfoiljones
Summary: TLDR: The Reds and Blues are an administrative nightmare, and yet the UNSC decides that they need to go back to their training exercise roots, and be their own recognized unit. Also, one of Caboose's sisters is there.Chapter 5: Subtítulos (Subtitles)“Dr. Grey is coming?”“What the hell, do all of you know Dr. Grey of Chorus?”“I don’t! Is she hot?”
Relationships: Agent Carolina & Sarge (Red vs. Blue), Dexter Grif & Lavernius Tucker, Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons, Frank "Doc" Dufresne & Emily Grey, Michael J. Caboose & Lopez
Comments: 30
Kudos: 22





	1. Back to Your Roots

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue  
> Title: Red Battalion, Blue Infantry Regiment  
> Rating: M (mentions of violence and adult situations)  
> Alternative Title: Enlisted vs. Officers  
> Summary:  
> The Reds and Blues are an administrative nightmare. They barely follow a semblance of military custom and courtesy. They don’t know the difference between enlisted and commissioned, hell even how ranks work in general. Half of them are technically unfit for duty for medical reasons alone. They’ve committed various counts of fraud and/or impersonating a soldier. They’ve had several stints of going AWOL. They’ve been wanted criminals of the UNSC at least once. Two of them are Special Forces but not, one of them is a robot, one of them is a wash-out Spartan too brain damaged to be alive, one is an ex-ODST, and one is a mentally unstable war criminal turned vigilante.  
> Most of them belong to a program that is now defunct, and by extension the UNSC, but they also belong to Chorus technically. And yet, the UNSC decides that they need their own recognized unit? And go back to their training exercise roots? Of course they would.  
> Warnings: Mentions of violence, experimentation, death, and war crimes.  
> Author's Note: Directly related to Callsign: Humble Six. But you don’t have to read it to read this and vice versa.

Military acronyms to know: (pertaining to the U.S military)

 **OPFOR:** Opposing forces. A military unit tasked with representing an enemy, usually for training purposes in war game scenarios.

 **NTC:** National Training Center in Fort Irwin, California.

 **JRTC:** Joint Readiness Training Center, in Fort Polk, Louisiana. 

**1700:** 5:00PM in the military 24-hour clock.

 **CPT:** Captain, O-3 Commissioned Officer

 **COL:** Colonel, O-6 Commissioned Officer

 **PVT:** Private First Class, E-3 Junior Enlisted

 **SGM:** Sergeant Major, an E-9 non-commissioned officer. 

**CSM:** Command Sergeant Major; also an E-9 non-commissioned officer, but the Senior Enlisted Advisor the the Commanding Officer.

* * *

**Prologue: Back to Your Roots**

_The Reds and Blues_

_Blue Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

_2558, A.D_

The screen on the Blue Base communications hub / television set suddenly flashed with a screen-wide icon of a ringing phone; in bold font it read;

**INCOMING CALL...**

**President Kimball**

**_Prinsiball of Singing Planat_ **

**Accept -** **Ignore**

Washington blinked slowly in confusion; why was Kimball calling? And who let Caboose set the Caller ID description? Granted, it was only just recently they had come back from Chorus after his hospital stay, she might have just been checking up.

“Accept call.” He made the verbal prompt, and the call started. “Hello, President Kimball?”

“Agent Washington?” She asked, her voice slightly garbled and there seemed to be an edge of relief and anger in her voice. “It’s about time you responded.”

“About time?” He repeated, tilting his head slightly.

“I’ve been trying to contact you all for a month now-” She cut herself off, and agitated she asked “what the hell is that horrible noise outside? It sounds like someone is beating a cat to death with a violin.”

“Oh, uh...” Washington chuckled to himself; he’d mostly tuned out the cacophonous noise from outside “Well, the Reds are having a celebratory bonfire. Simmons started playing the banjo and Grif was playing the ukulele. Sarge started singing ‘Country Boy’ even though it wasn’t the tune Simmons or Grif were playing. And then Carolina joined in on the singing, and somehow Caboose dragged his entire drum set from Blue Base to outside and started playing it even though the song doesn’t have drums in it either.”

There was a moment of silence. From Kimball, at least. Because there still was a tortuously loud and disorganized noise coming from outside that resembled song. Sarges voice managed to be the loudest above the rest.

“AND I’VE SAID IT BEFORE, BUT I’LL SAY IT AGAIN ‘CUZ MY FAMILIES FOUGHT AND DIED TO SAVE THIS LAND! AND A COUNTRY BOY IS-”

“ANYWAYS,” Kimball tightened her tone towards Washington “why have you not responded to any of my emails or calls?”

“Oh uh, we just recently got the internet back up.”

“Recently? We _just_ set up the Wi-Fi towers before you all returned to Iris. There was one for each base.”

“Well, you see...” Agent Washington cleared his throat as he began. “Simmons tried doing to safety brief on Internet Safety, and he set up a literal wall of fire in Red Base as a prop about a firewall, so Sarge ended up destroying their tower in an attempt to take the firewall down.”

“And what about Blue Base?”

“Sister and Tucker used up all of the data on… adult, websites.”

“It was _unlimited data._ ”

“Not unlimited enough for those two.”

“That doesn’t even-” Kimball stopped herself, as if realizing there wasn’t a point in arguing logic, which there wasn’t because the Reds and Blues didn’t operate on logic. “It isn’t necessarily a problem that you haven’t answered me until now, but it is inconvenient Agent Washington.”

“What is?” Carolina asked as she walked back in, seemingly satisfied with torturing the Reds and Blues with her singing for now.

“With the Blues and Reds in jail the UNSC once again has their eyes on you.” The Chorusan told her, her visor following the cyan freelancers stride across the ‘lounge’ to the couch alongside Washington.

“It was proven that those terrorist attacks weren’t us.” Carolina reminded her.

“They know that, that isn’t the problem; the problem is that with back-to-back large scale events happening with your group as the center, the UNSC cannot ignore you anymore.”

“Ignore us?” Agent Washington almost seemed to scoff under his helmet.

“With Project Freelancer having long been dismantled, the Reds and Blues - and all other surviving Sim Troopers as evidenced by Temples group - have been left to their own devices while still technically under enlistment contract with the UNSC. That includes you two, even if it’s under fake names. For all intents and purposes, all of you are active duty UNSC, AWOL, or impersonating a soldier.”

“Impersonating a-....Oh, ohhhh… Oh no.” Washington trailed off.

“Wash?” Carolina inquired.

“Well, there was that period of time I was, you know, pretending to be Church.”

“...” Carolina didn’t reply, simply looking back to Kimball.

“This is also an issue of your citizenships - all of you are citizens of Chorus, and we are independent of the UNSC. So there’s been talks of what to do with you all, because the UNSC wants to claim you all, but we will not give you up.”

“And you haven’t thought about including _us_ in these talks about us?” Carolina challenged, she almost stood up but Washington put his hand on her arm to stop her. He winced, the stress started giving him a headache. 

“We _tried._ ” Kimball retorted “But none of you have been answering our calls and emails, so we had to make decisions on your behalf.”

“You didn’t send a ship out to get us to attempt contact? We could have been dead.” Carolina told her, Kimball shook her head.

“We didn’t want to the UNSC to trail us after you, our hands were tied. There was a compromise.”

Carolina and Washington looked to each other, then back at Kimball on the screen.

“What kind of compromise?” Carolina asked, cautious. 

“The UNSC considers all of you personnel, but also wants to… keep you as far away as possible from the rest of their active duty population.”

“...Really?”

“Before Chorus, the Reds and Blues had killed more UNSC personnel than actual enemies.”

Washington was about to retort… but then he remembered that Caboose had team-killed so much that the Freelancer Command had a keyboard shortcut dedicated to his team killing spree. So, he supposed that was fair.

“Our end of the deal is that we wanted you all to stay on Chorus, and the UNSC was okay with that, as long as you formed a base here.”

“A base? They want us to _occupy_ Chorus?”

“Yes, but not as an invading force, more of a Joint-Forces Operation between UNSC and Chorus military elements.”

“I see...” Carolina nodded “So they want us to form a legitimate unit?”

“Yes, but because of the wild, out-there, impossible scenarios that seemed to always happen to your group, the UNSC wants the Reds and Blues to go back to their Project Freelancer roots.”

Washington and Carolina were both stunned, and likely blanched under their armour “They want to pair us with experimental AI and equipment?”

“Only one of you, but no. Are you familiar with what an OPFOR is?”

“Who is being paired with-” Washington began to ask, but Carolina cut him off and made him immediately forget his current train of thought.

“Opposing force,” Carolina answered, military-toned “or enemy force. It’s a military unit tasked with representing the enemy in training exercises and war game scenarios.”

Kimball nodded “The UNSC wants your group to form a JRTC - a Joint Readiness Training Center, with your group acting as the OPFOR. Not unlike the training exercises that take place in Fort Polk or Fort Irwin on Earth.”

“God Fort Irwin sucked...” Washington muttered under his breath.

“You went to Fort Irwin?” Carolina asked.

“Yeah for NTC - you know what’s in Fort Irwin? Death Valley. Just Death Valley. I’m pretty sure more Earthbound forces die there of heat stroke and vehicles accidents than-”

“Focus.” Kimball demanded, and the two Freelancers sat straight as if just now getting their military bearing back. “The UNSC is putting your group under the jurisdiction of the Army branch and sending a-”

“Why the Army?” Washington cut her off, and the glare he could practically _feel_ through her blue visor made him regret that.

“I was getting there,” Kimball informed him in a pinched tone “the Reds and Blues, from an administrative standpoint are a nightmare. The UNSC Marine Branch does not want to waste their resources on just getting the paperwork and certifications in place for this to work, so the Army is instead sending a Human Resource Specialist to aid you.”

“A Human Resource Specialist?” Carolina repeated.

“Yes. The documentation of the personnel alone is a touchy subject, you two have your files read more ‘redacted’ than not. Sarge has been AWOL since he refused orders to reassign to Rats Nest, and both Donut and Caboose have top-secret clearance files.” 

“Donut?” Carolina inquired.

“Caboose?!” Washington added.

“Hello.” The standard blue Mark-V helmet popped up from behind the couch, making both of the former Freelancers almost jump.

“Stop doing that Caboose!” Washington snapped, seeming more angry than Kimball was used to seeing him, she would have questioned it if it weren’t for Caboose being seemingly unperplexed. 

“...Anyways,” Kimball continued, watching as Caboose wormed his way onto the couch between Carolina and Wash, except he opted to sit upside down looking up at the screen “The UNSC is sending their Army asset, I expected she would be there about now. Her name is Sergeant Major-”

“A Sergeant Major? Oh no, uh, um.” Washington seemed to panic from his seat 

“Yes, she should arrive soon- I expected her to arrive and brief you by now, honestly.”

“You mean Walla Walla?” Caboose perked up.

“Well, yes. She already told you her name Caboose? And she never bothered to brief any of you?” Kimball asked the blue space marine.

“She didn’t need to tell me her name, I already knew because she’s my sister. But the Reds called dibs and now she’s on their team.”

Silence.

“So...” Washington began “She IS here, but, she isn’t exactly… Well, let me just get started by telling you why the Reds are celebrating...”

* * *

_The Reds and Blues_

_Red Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

_2558, A.D_

Groggily, Sergeant Major opened her eyes; her HUD immediately fired up in response with a stream of information including her vitals and the date and time. 

Groaning to herself, she tried to sit up, but as she did she jostled something that was next to her and it fell on her head- well, helmet. When it touched her she had a brief moment of panic when she tried to shove the offending object away but missed and got hit in the head by the object, which turned out to be a broom, and her hand met a wall- not, not a wall, a door?

“What the hell... ” Sergeant Major muttered to herself, trying to find purchase on the ground to help get herself back with her other hand, which ended up in an empty but suspiciously _slimy_ mop bucket. “Gross!” She hissed; sure she was wearing power armour gloves, but the sensors on those things did work almost _too_ well. 

She made a mental note to lower the settings later. 

Last things she remembered was all of the Reds and Blues and- some guy who sounded like he was talking through a Pringle can? She was trying to talk to Captain Caboose about- She exhaled heavily through her nose, trying to ignore the growing feeling of resentment. He had to gull to act like they were friends?

She slowly got up, keeping on hand against the wall in the too-small space as she stood up, as she did she managed to feel for a switch on the wall, and flicked it up. As soon as the lights turned on her retinas were assaulted by the brightness and she quickly shut her eyes. “HUD,” Sergeant Major began her verbal prompt “command override: Blackout Mode.” 

The brightness of her HUD went down, almost like putting on a pair of sunglasses, but it still displayed her vitals, shields, ammunition and motion tracker.

Speaking of the motion tracker, according to it there were at least five… enemies? Within twenty-five meters of her, as indicated by the five red blips in her motion sensor. That couldn’t be right- she already had the Reds and Blues registered as ‘friendly’ in her settings. 

Sergeant Major finally looked around and realized why the space she was in was so small - she was in a broom closet. 

Did… Did those crazy space marines really shove her into a _broom closet_?

“God I haven’t been in the closet since the Beta Company...” She mumbled to herself in an attempt to get a semblance of amusement. Sometimes you gotta just make yourself laugh; too bad it didn’t work.

As she opened the door all the way, she found herself in what looked like a kitchen, sitting on a stool in front of the counter was a marine in orange armour who appeared to be eating a bowl of cereal, with his helmet still on.

“Good morning.” He greeted nonchalantly, shoving the spoon through the slot in front of the mouth on the helmet.

“It is 1700.” She replied; her HUD automatically linked up the marines armour and gave her an update on who he was and his vitals; 

**CPT GRIF, DEXTER / HR 85 / BP 110/80 / SHIELDS 100%**

“Ah, morning for me. I did just wake up a little bit ago. Thanks for that by the way, Sergeant Major Caboose.”

“Sir, what do you- what did you just call me? And why was I in a closet?!” She demanded, her HUD darkened a little bit more and her audio input became slightly muted in a response to her stress. “HUD,” She prompted “Command Override: Blackout Mode stabilize at 60%.” Her helmet pinged and the audio/visual input stayed at that percentage. 

Grif shrugged “Well we all went outside to see what Caboose was yelling about, and then you started to freak out and repeat the same questions over and over again before going into armour lock and passing out. Caboose said you were having a ‘Processor meltdown’ and needed to be somewhere dark and quiet.”

She crossed her arms “I have an episode of Sensory Overload, and you guys decide to _shove me into a closet?!_ ”

“I know, we are pretty considerate.” Grif replied, and his tone made it hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not; Sergeant Major was about to retort but she saw another of the red dots on her motion tracker approach.

Into the kitchen came a tall, lean individual in maroon armour, her HUD automatically updated her.

**CPT SIMMONS, RICHARD / HR 45 / BP 90/60 / SHIELDS 100% / 33% CYBERNETIC**

“Oh hey, you’re awake,” Simmons greeted and walked over, holding his hand out; although still cross, she took the invitation and shook his hand, looking up at him in the eye- err, visor “Captain Dick Simmons.”

“Sergeant Major, sir.” She introduced back.

“Ah, you just go by your rank like Sarge does? I guess that makes it less confusing, we can’t call you ‘Caboose’ or ‘sister’.”

Sergeant Major gritted her teeth “ _Caboose_ is not my last name.” She corrected him.

“Oh, are you married?” Simmons asked, removing his hand from hers and striding over to the coffee machine on the counter. Or the first time that she'd seen, Grif actually looked up from his cereal; he seemed to track the maroon ones movement.

“Yes- well, no.” She admitted “I _was_ married, but I did keep the surname.”

“Sorry to hear.” Simmons replied, and did not seem to want to dig any deeper, he handed her a large ceramic mug of black coffee and kept another for himself.

“So, what is going on?” She asked, cautiously. She looked to the steaming mug now in her hand.

“So after you showed up, Sarge called dibs and Blue Team didn’t argue because they already have Grifs sister, and also Tucker said one Caboose was enough.”

“For the last time, I’m not a ‘Caboose’, I’m-”

“Well, well, looks like our newest recruit has finally woken up.” A southern drawl came out of seemingly nowhere; two more fully armoured marines walked in, one in bright red armour and the other in pink.

**COL SARGE / HR 70 / BP 130/85 / SHIELDS 100%**

**PVT DONUT, FRANKLIN / HR 90 / BP 120/80 / SHIELDS 100%**

She resisted the urge to salute, seeing as they were indoors “Good evening, sir.” She said, looking to Sarge, as he was the senior commissioned officer, she had to give him the greeting of the day.

“Well, good evening to you too, missy. It’s always good to see someone round here with manners.” He shot a look at his junior officer, Grif, who ignored him and continued eating cereal.

“I hope you don’t mind, but we did take the liberty of upgrading your armour while you were resting, nothing too big heheh.” The Colonel told her, and her confusion turned to something akin to dread.

“...Upgrading?” She asked.

“Yes your motion tracker had allies set to the yellow, and enemies set to red. Now that you are Red Team, Red Team is set to red and our enemies the Blue Team is set to blue.”

That explained why her motion tracker had all of them as red dots when all of them should have been set as allied “But… what if there’s hostile forces… that AREN’T Blue Team?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I don’t understand what you mean.” Sarge said, grabbing a small carton from the cupboard - a box of Strawberry Yoohoo. “Your settings are defaulted to US - the glorious reds versus THEM, the dirty blues.”

“So… all hostile forces are set to show up as blue, is what you are saying?”

“You’re darn right, Sergeant Major Caboose.” Sarge confirmed. 

“My surname isn’t-”

“Are you a SGM, or CSM sergeant major?” Sarge ignored her.

“I’m-”

The pink one, Private Donut, cut her off “By the way, do you like the paint job we did for your armour?”

“Excuse me?” She asked, doing a quick look-around at her armour. It wasn’t bad enough they ‘updated’ the setting of her HUD- There was a Snake emblem spray painted on the shoulders of her armour - a brighter orange colour presumably to stick out against the peach trim of her armour.

“...” She pursed her lips under her helmet “Let me get this straight...” she repeated, swiveling her gaze around the kitchen at the four heavily armoured men in the room with her “I show up, have a Sensory Overload meltdown, and pass out… and before consulting me, you decide to call ‘dibs’ on me, spray paint my armour, alter my system settings, _and throw me in a fucking closet_? And you think I’m supposed to be okay with all of this?”

Her hands tightened into fists at her sides and if COL Sarge wasn’t a senior officer she might try to size him up; try being the key word because she was short. 

“Please, calm down; we don’t mean you any harm.” A new voice said, a tall individual in infiltrator armour with a locus helmet walked in; he was mainly tan, with sage trim. Her HUD locked in on his armour.

 **??? / HR 59 / BP 113/76 / SHIELDS 100% / ADAPTIVE CAMOUFLAGE**

Sergeant Major blinked behind her visor; she didn’t have an immediate record of this marine, nor was she briefed on any other Red Team members other than their robot Lopez.

“And… who are you?” She asked carefully. 

“Oh, this is our other newest Red Army Recruit, Locus.” Sarge announced proudly, crushing his carton of milk showing it was now empty. 

Sergeant Major looked to the marine, wondering why they would be referring to him as his armour variant. But considering that they had a guy whose name was literally, Franklin Delano Donut, and her own name being kind of ridiculous, she supposed she couldn’t judge the guy.

“Okay, look, let me explain to you all why I’m here...” Sergeant Major began.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to catch the zaniness of the Reds and Blues. Probably failed. Also Locus is in Red Team.  
> The song they are singing, or at least trying to sing, is "Country Boy" by Aaron Lewis.  
> We'll go into Sergeant Major 'meeting' the group next chapter, please leave a review.


	2. But We Hate the Marines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a soldier, these were the reasons you either hated the other branches or looked down on them;
> 
> The Air Force was lazy. The Navy was pretentious. The Coast Guard snorts coke and no one cares about them. The Space Force was a meme. And the Marines are stupid and eat crayons. (The stereotype the other branches have about the Army being fat was definitely taken out of context and exaggerated)

Military acronyms to know: (pertaining to the U.S military)

 **PRT/PT** : Physical readiness training

 **MOS** : Military Occupational Specialty, which is a code for a job (ex. 42A as seen below)

 **42A** : Human Resource Specialist 

**NCO** : Non-Commissioned Officer, also referred to as ‘sergeants’ depending on rank starting from E5

 **LTC:** Lieutenant Colonel, an O-5 commissioned officer

 **SPI** : Semi-Powered Infiltration armour, the trademark armour of Spatan-III’s (ex. [ SPI.Armour ](https://www.halopedia.org/Semi-Powered_Infiltration_armor#:~:text=The%20Semi%2DPowered%20Infiltration%20armor,Ruk%20Ariaustin%20as%20design%20lead.) )

 **ACU** : Army Combat Uniform, or day-to-day duty uniform which some people might call ‘fatigues’. Present-day army uses the Operational Camouflage Pattern (OCP) (ex. [ OCP ACU ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Army_Combat_Uniform))

 **Present Arms:** The salute. In Drill and Ceremony it is a two-step drill. With a rifle it looks like this [ Salute With Rifle ](http://www.drillpad.net/DPrifles_Army.htm#:~:text=To%20render%20courtesy%20with%20the,present%20arms%20in%20one%20count.). 

**Greeting of the day:** Good morning/afternoon/evening. It is followed by sergeant, or sir/ma’am. Standard greeting a junior enlisted person gives to NCO’s and Officers. All enlisted personnel are to greet officers and warrant officers this way, and salute if they are outside.

 **ONI:** The Office of Naval Intelligence, the intelligence branch of the UNSC Navy. The SPARTAN-III program falls under the jurisdiction of this branch. 

* * *

**Chapter 1: But We Hate the Marines**

_1st Battalion, 509th Infantry Regiment._

_Fort Polk Joint Training Exercise Center, Louisiana_

_2558, A.D, Approx. 2 months ago..._

Soldiers hated a lot of things. Most things. Almost everything.

Including but not limited to; their unit, their duty station, the Army, the military, themselves, other soldiers, PRT, motorpool Mondays, their assigned barracks, having to renew annual training certifications, their training room for constantly losing said training certifications- most things, yeah. The order of which a soldier hated those things depended on the individual, really.

The only things soldiers seemed to earnestly like was alcohol, tobacco, Dr.Pepper, avoiding work, the gym, energy drinks, and sleep. 

However, there was a common theme that service members across all branches agree with - whatever branch you are in is always superior to the other branches. No matter what. Without fail. Anyone who deviated from this was either impersonating a soldier, or a prior-service transfer from a different branch.

As a soldier, these were the reasons you either hated the other branches or looked down on them;

The Air Force was lazy. The Navy was pretentious. The Coast Guard snorts coke and no one cares about them. The Space Force was a meme. And the Marines are stupid and eat crayons. (The stereotype the other branches have about the Army being fat was definitely taken out of context and exaggerated)

To be a soldier was bad enough.

To be stationed in Fort Polk was depressing enough.

Being a 42A was frustrating enough. 

Being an NCO was draining enough.

Being called into the Battalion Commander's office out of nowhere when all of her soldiers went home two hours ago, wasn’t necessarily surprising but it was annoying enough.

Being told by her Battalion Commander LTC Emmons that she had finally received orders to go to another duty station might have been exciting enough.

However.

There’s _always_ a caveat when officers are involved.

Being told by LTC Emmons that she was now on orders to be a liaison for the UNSC because she was prior service UNSC, and now had to be the sole Human Resources personnel for a band of non-conforming Space Marines who also needed to be turned into their own unit?

That. That was horrifying enough.

And that was all _before_ she had to go into all of their files once she was on the need-to-know basis.

* * *

_The Reds and Blues_

_Red Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

_Present date and time_

“So the UNSC picked you because you're prior service ONI?” Simmons asked as most of the Red Team sat in the lounge room portion of the Red Base. Lopez was still absent, but Locus was there. Instead of sitting down, the mysterious space marine opted to lean against the wall kind of like a gargoyle. Grif was eating another bowl of cereal, but sat right next to Simmons, almost brushing against him, and Sergeant Major wondered why they didn’t just share the love seat like most married couples would. 

“Yes that is exactly what I just finished explaining,” she replied “by the way, you guys have a couch and still decided to shove me into a closet? Whatever. As I was saying, most people who have been in the Earthbound forces and the UNSC, are prior service Earthbound forces, and _then_ UNSC. Not the other way around. The Army was commissioned by the higher echelons of the UNSC to deal with you, but there aren’t a lot of prior service ONI in that branch, let alone in Human Resources.”

Simmons somehow managed to look confused with his helmet on “But why Army? Why not the Navy, or the Marines? That’d be the most similar to-” 

Sergeant Major cut him off “Does the term ‘lowest bidder’ mean anything to you, sir?”

The room fell silent for a moment, and then the Red Team sans Locus did a collective “Ooohhhh.” 

“But, to answer your further questions sir,” The tan-armoured soldier continued, crossing her arms “let’s just say there’s a lot of clearance issues when it comes to the files of a lot of your members.” She saw Locus tilt his head as if he knew something, but didn’t comment on it.

“You know, you don’t have to keep calling us ‘sir’.” Grif told her, crossing one leg over the other and resting an armoured foot against Simmons thigh, not the other seemed to mind or even notice.

Sergeant Major gave him a blank look through her visor “Most of you are officers, I’m enlisted.” She reminded him, they seemed to look back at her just as blankly “Look, I’ve been out of the UNSC for years but you can’t seriously tell me you don’t understand Military Custom and Courtesy.”

“What, do we call you ma’am then?” Donut chimed in, his voice was very feathery and hard to read any emotion that wasn’t immediately positive.

“No.” She shook her head “I’m an NCO, you just say Sergeant Major or-”

The front door to the base suddenly opened and three marines rushed in - Agent Washington, Agent Carolina, and Captain Caboose.

“Guys wait the new Red Team member is- oh you’re awake.” Washington stopped in his tracks and Carolina did the same, Caboose lagged behind in the prompting and crashed into a wall.

“I’m okay!” He said, nearly embedded in the wall. Honestly, probably hurt the wall more than it did him.

Sergeant Major was quickly reminded of why she passed out earlier.

* * *

_The Reds and Blues_

_Outside of Red Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

_2558, A.D, Approx. 2 hours ago..._

Power armour. She was given standard issue UNSC power armour intended for un-augmented service members. She hated power armour. It was so heavy - maybe not as heavy as GEN1 MJOLNIR, nor the SPI armor she used to wear, but it was definitely heavier than the ACU’s she normally wore on a day-to-day basis. 

Not anymore, though. At least, not anytime soon. Because, apparently, the Reds and Blues, even though ‘retired’ wore their armour all day, every day, and took their weapons with them everywhere.

She was currently wearing Mark-VI armour, standard issue except the Air Assault variant helmet because it had been designed specifically for the UNSC Army Airborne (if she was going to wear power armour it would be _Army_ armour, damnit). She had chosen tan as her primary colour, with peach trim. The primary weapon she held was a M392 rifle, while the sidearm strapped to her leg was a M6G pistol.

She walked tentatively towards the base - it must have been the base designated to the Reds, judging by colour trim. She kept her head on a swivel; where was everyone? Even if none of them answered her radio calls or emails, surely they had to know the UNSC was sending a Human Resource Specialist? The UNSC gave notice to their leadership, and Chorus President Kimball, over a month ago.

“Hello.” A somewhat high-pitched voice reminiscent of someone doing _baby talk_ suddenly appeared behind her. 

On instinct, she whirled around and pointed her rifle directly at the person who had snuck up on her _Jesus was she really so out of practice that someone could just sneak up on her-_

“Are you from Singing Planet?” The marine who greeted her asked, completely unperturbed by the weapon pointed right at his face- well… sternum, really, considering he was a lot taller than she was expecting. He was clad in standard blue Mark-VI armour, except for his helmet which was Mark-V, a variant she was familiar with but hadn’t seen in a long time. He had an Assault Rifle in hand, but kept it on the low-ready instead of pointing it back at her.

This must be CPT Caboose. The marine she… really hoped wasn’t who she thought he was.

“...What?” She asked, lowering her weapon, blinking in surprise behind her visor. Singing planet? “Oh uh, Good Afternoon, sir.” She quickly ‘presented arms’ with her weapon after giving the officer the greeting of the day.

“You have the same face as Principal Kimball and Andersmith.” He elaborated. Elaborated being used loosely because he couldn’t see her face behind her helmet and she didn’t know a principal-

“Do you mean President Kimball of Chorus?” She asked; was he talking about her _helmet?_ President Kimball and a good number of her service members did wear Air Assault helmets. 

Her arms were starting to hurt holding the solute with her rifle, and he didn’t salute her back like officers were supposed to- then again, Marines always were a weird branch, she remembered that salutes and greetings of the day from enlisted personnel weren’t really a thing in that branch. She quickly held her at the low-ready again.

“Yes.” Caboose replied, but the airy tone indicated that he probably didn’t understand what she just said.

Suddenly, a light on his Assault Rifles Scope blinked on “ _Hostile Detected_ .” A robotic albeit _tiny_ voice came from the rifle. 

She took a step back, holding her own rifle close to herself “Did that gun just fucking talk?”

“Oh that’s Freckles.” The blue captain said cheerfully as if that answered her question.

“ _Suggested course of action: Engage Hostile Forces._ ” The rifle, or Freckles, spoke.

“Woah woah!” She defended, alarmed “I’m not hostile. Look - Captain Caboose is it?”

“Yes. I am Caboose.”

“I’m Sergeant Major, I’m the HR liaison sent from the UNSC.” She introduced carefully; she was relieved to see the light on his Assault Rifle blink out.

“You are like Red Sergeant?”

“Like what- no? Listen,” She breathed in deeply “are you Six?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head “I’m way older than six. So yes.”

“No- I mean, _Humble Six?_ ”

“I am the best at being humble.”

Sergeant Major paused. Then deeply inhaled through her nose. And slowly exhaled. The beginnings of frustration were creeping up in her bloodstream. She remembered Six was always stupid, even before his failed augmentation, but was he _this_ stupid before? “ Are you SPARTAN-B057?” 

He seemed to freeze entirely. Like an empty suit of armour.

“Mike-B057? Humble Six?” She pressed.

There was almost a full minute of silence, and for a minute she wondered if he had fallen asleep in his armour.

“My name is Michael J. Caboose.” He drawled out, blankly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She sighed; this really _was_ him alright. He _would_ keep that stupid name he picked from the Temporary Profile randomizer, wouldn’t he? “Look, don’t you recognize me?”

“Did we go to High School together?” He asked.

“...No. It’s me, SPARTAN-B023.” She magnetized her rifle to her back, and took off her helmet to show her face, tucking it under her arm carefully. 

“Why did you take your face off?”

Scoffing, she shoved her helmet right back on, crossing her arms incredulously while looking up at him “It’s me, Mike!” She told him “Whiskey-B023!”

“This is not the time! It isn’t even five o’clock somewhere.”

“Humble 15? Ring any bells…? Or maybe... windchimes? You probably have room in your head for those...”

“Wind chimes are not an instrument.” 

She facepalmed.

Sergeant Major didn’t want it to come to this.

“....Remember how Zulu always thought that Whiskey was a bad word because it was alcohol?” She asked, talking slowly; she could imagine recognition filling his face, but honestly his face didn’t fit him as much as his helmet did, and assuming he was capable of recognition would insinuate he was self-aware. “So instead of Whiskey you decided to call me… Walla-”

“WALLA WALLA! OH MY GOD, IT IS YOU!” He shouted, overjoyed and excited; just as she winced from the volume he suddenly grabbed her from under the arms having magnetized his rifle to his back in a split second, picked her up off of the ground like she was a fucking toddler or ragdoll and spun them both around. 

“AHHH!” Sergeant Major yelled, furiously trying to break the grip he had on her.

“CABOOSE!” An angry voice screamed from inside of Red Base, thanks to "Spartan Time", she could make out a very… _big-boned_ individual in bright orange armour appear at the top of the base, he must have been the source of the screaming. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT? IT’S ONLY THREE IN THE AFTERNOON SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP.”

“What in red blazes is going on?” From the side of the base, bright red armour, and short; with brown armour and tall following closely behind.

“What do you see, sir?” Maroon armour, tall and thin.

“Looks like Caboose is really _giving it_ to that guy.” Pink, broad build average height.

“Caboose, are you okay?” Steel armour, yellow accents; moves very fast and efficient from some hillsides.

Short-and-aqua, and teal-and-athletic, come running from the nearby Blue Base. Following not fast, and far behind is a marine in yellow who is short. And coming up far behind, but actually really fast, is another marine who is in purple armour with an athletic build and average height.

Caboose finally stops, planting her back down; dizzy, she all but clings to his wrist with one hand, holding her head with the other to try to stop the world from spinning.

“Who are you?” Agent Washington, she now recognizes, demands, standing side-by-side with Agent Carolina.

“I’m Sergeant Major-” She began, trying to now remove herself from the Blue Marine, but Caboose cut her off.

“HEY GUYS MEET ONE OF MY SISTERS!”

What the hell? Aghast, she tried desperately to correct him “I-I’m, we’re-” Sensory overload was cropping up, and if these guys wouldn’t shut the hell up the rumbles would start-

The short and aqua one, CPT Tucker most likely, groaned aloud “Fuckberries, ANOTHER Caboose? A _Sergeant Major Caboose_?”

“How unfortunate.” A voice out of nowhere said; her eyes bugged as a tall man in brown-and-green infiltrator armour and a locus helmet materialized out of nowhere. Was… was he using active camouflage the whole time? How long was he there?

“Dibs.” The bright red one - COL Sarge, judging by the backwoods accent - announced.

* * *

_Back in the present…_

“So...” Sarge looked up and over at the two former Freelancers “You hear we’re getting our own formally recognized unit?”

“Kimball just called-” Carolina began, and the three ‘adults’ of the Reds and Blues conversed about all they had just learned.

“Ooomph!” Caboose grunted as he unstuck himself from the wall, leaving a Caboose-shaped imprint behind. Somehow there was a smiley face engraved on the helmet part of the indent, which should be impossible.

Sergeant Major felt her hands gripping the thigh portion of her power armour, curling up into angry fists as she seethed, watching her fellow Spartan-III approach.

He held his “Do you like your new friends, Walla Walla? I’m sorry you couldn’t join Blue Team but stupid Tucker said no and Red Sergeant already called dibs and there's a protocol. But we can always have a sleep over and catch up and paint our nails and-”

Her resentment bubbled up and grew into something angrier, and she stood up abruptly, to she shock of others, taking a few steps forward and facing her so-called ‘brother’.

Caboose seemed to misread her body language, and held his arms out as if she was going to hug him. Sergeant Major glared best she could with a helmet on; how dare he act like everything was okay? Like things were cool now?

She brought one fist up and back.

Then snapped it forward to flip him off.

The rest of the room suddenly turned quiet, the rest of the marines in the room not knowing what was going on because of the two very different signals being sent from Caboose, and Sergeant Major.

“Uhm.” Simmons stood up and calmly walked over, but kept a little bit of a distance between him and the ‘siblings’, he cleared his throat to get their attention, the two Spartan-III’s looked over at him, with Sergeant Major slowly undoing the obscene gesture, but Caboose didn’t put his arms down. Simmons looked at Caboose, and weakly added “...Suck it blue?” 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review.
> 
> Caboose's nonsense is really hard to write for so a lot of his dialogue is ironic in a way. Yes, Caboose is a Spartan-III. Sergeant Major is one of his 17 'sisters' / squadmates. No, she is not a big fan of him as you can probably tell.
> 
> Also, Locus is a Red Team member. He made the primary colour of his armour brown to better match the warm colour scheme of the Red Team.
> 
> Simmons just wants to be supportive of his team.


	3. Out of Locus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Locus wants to stay with the Reds, but there’s some issues with that. Sarge gossips on patrol.

**Chapter 2: Out of Locus**

_The Reds and Blues_

_Red Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

_2300 Military Time / 1100 P.M_

It was late at night now, and Sergeant Major had finally briefed all of the Reds and Blues on the plans the UNSC had for them. There was some bitching and moaning to be expected, some of them were just glad to have their records cleared and pay unfrozen. Everyone had gone back to their respective bases to turn in for the night. 

Although she spent no less than fifteen minutes trying to convince Caboose that no, she wasn’t going to have a sleepover to catch up with him. And although she kept repeating some variation of “I hate you. Why aren’t you dead?” Over and over again, these harsh words seemingly did nothing to deter the blue Space Marine. In the end, the only thing that made him go away was Donut reminding him that his _sister_ needed to get to know her team before having any sleepovers.

 _How_ did he manage to delude himself into believing the rest of Humble Team were all his sisters? Was it the psychological trauma of being an orphaned child soldier that broke him? Was it the dozens of brain injuries he had accumulated over the years? Was it a coping mechanism from a lifetime of instability, loss, and death?

She may not know yet, and she really didn’t want to know. All Sergeant Major knew was; all of the Reds and Blues were convinced that CPT Caboose has seventeen sisters, and she was one of them. And although it was annoying to have everyone call her either ‘Sergeant Major Caboose’ or ‘Sergeant Major Sister’, at least this meant none of them knew that they were Spartans. They even thought that her aggressiveness towards him was their version of sibling banter.

Although she would never give him credit for it, Caboose had somehow managed to keep it secret that he was a Spartan. Hoo-fucking-ah. 

Being the only woman in Red Base meant that she was entitled to her own room. Unfortunately, as Sergeant Major found out, with the base being a finite space and all of the other rooms taken (Sarge having his own, Simmons, Grif and Donut all sharing an open bay and Locus apparently bunking in the garage with Lopez), she was left with only one space to herself.

The broom closet.

Thankfully they took all of the cleaning supplies out, got her a computer chair, a throw blanket, and ran her an extension cord for her encrypted military laptop, but she knew her back and neck were going to suffer from this stay.

Currently, she was sitting in the computer chair with the blanket over her shoulders and working on the laptop on her lap, the lights in the closet were out leaving only the dim illumination from her laptop, which was already on night time mode, and the quiet clicks from her keyboard as she typed.

There was a light knock. “Come in,” Sergeant Major said, rolling her chair back to make space for whoever it was.

The door opened, revealing Locus.

“Ah yes, Mr… Locus.” She greeted.

“We need to talk.” He said bluntly.

“That’s fine, just close the door behind you for confidentiality purposes.”

“...” As if to make a point, Locus stuck his head in and barely turned his head to either side to ‘look around’ the extremely limited space.

“The door opens to the outside, you’re fine.” Sergeant Major insisted; with a sigh he came in and closed the door and pushed his back against it to make as much space possible between him and her “How may I help you?”

“How do I stay with them?” Locus asked as he flipped the lights back on, probably to make it less awkward. She manually dimmed her visors lighting.

“Uhhh… do the mean Red Team? Because Red Team and Blue Team will officially-”

“All of them.” He clarified.

“Let’s see uh… Are you a Sim Trooper or rogue Freelancer? If you are all I have to do is pull up your contract.” She asked, looking up at him curiously.

“No...”

“How uh… how are you involved with these guys again? I know you’re not a robot like Lopez.”

“I...” He hesitated “I was a soldier in the UNSC Marine Corps-.”

“Marine.” She cut him off

“-Excuse me?”

“ _Soldiers_ are part of the Army. If you’re from the Marine Corps branch of the UNSC, you’re a _Marine._ A Space Marine, sure, but a-”

He was staring at her hard through his visor.

“-Sorry, continue.”

“I was a _Marine_ in the UNSC, during the Great War.” he said, sounding as agitated as a person with a calm tone could sound “I was… discharged, shortly after it ended.”

“Okay just give me a name, Locus; I might need to find a waiver or something, re-enlisting you shouldn't going to be too hard.” Sergeant Major explained, then pulled up her database “What kind of discharge was it? Medical? Honorable? UNSC Army Branch is willing to look past even a Dishonorable discharge as long as you're good at running.”

“The problem isn’t the UNSC.” He admitted, looking slightly to the side “The problem is Chorus.”

“Chorus? What, are you banned from that planet?” Sergeant Major asked, somewhat joking; the silence that followed, however, was telling. “Oh… shit, you are, aren’t you?”

“I lost my way… I was broken from the war, and became a monster. You are aware of the Civil War on Chorus?”

Sergeant Major nodded “It was fabricated by Charon Industries and their Chairman, who wanted the technological resources on the planet.” She answered; normally, she didn’t care about anything that happened outside of Earth (Or Reach pre-glassing, her conscience nagged) but she _did_ have to learn about the Chorus Civil War in order to start putting the Reds and Blues new unit together…. Among other things, like the Freelancer Program, Stimulation Troopers, the Blues and Reds... 

“Chairman Hargrove hired mercenaries to play the two sides of Chorus against each other. One mercenary taking the side of The New Republic, and the other taking the side of The Federation...” He explained, and she nodded along. He stopped then, and looked back to her.

Sergeant Major was confused for a second, and then it dawned on her why he was trailing off “You- You were one of the-...” She gasped, a sudden ripple of fear bolted up her back.

“Yes.” Locus confirmed, and nodded. His tone was smooth, but somber.

“But… I heard you both died after the _Tartarus_ fell on the Purge temple?” 

“The Freelancers thought we died; my… _partner_ had a Hardlight Shield that kept us alive. We faced the Reds and Blues again at the Temple of Communication, but I realized I was done.”

“Done?”

“Done being the Bad Guy.” Locus explained, and to hear someone so straight-laced to say ‘Bad Guy’ was jarring. “My partner, the other mercenary, died. I took my leave of the planet, and spent the following months trying to redeem myself.”

“So like an… anti-hero? Or vigilante?”

“Something like that.” He nodded.

“... And you decided to come back to these guys?” Sergeant Major tilted her head, squinting behind her visor “I'm pretty sure they’ve killed almost as many innocent people as you; either out of ignorance or incompetence.”

“Then I am in good company.” His tone suddenly turned stern; was he being defensive of the Reds and Blues? 

She shrugged “So… you can’t go back to Chorus?”

He nodded.

She thought for a moment “Do they know you as just ‘Locus’? They don’t know your real name?”

“They do not, I only ever used my codename.” He said.

“Have they… ever seen you without your armour or helmet?”

“I-...” He suddenly stopped.

“So you’re telling me… Chorus has a vendetta against a mercenary named Locus?” She asked, he just stood there “A mercenary named Locus, who always wears a locus variant helmet?”

“There’s… no possible way it is that simple.” Locus told her, his tone was cool and even as always, but so… unsure? Maybe… elated? 

“You know, Agent Washington faked his death and identity for a good while just by simply spray painting his armour blue.”

“Seem’s a bit too… simple.”

“Don’t worry, I have a Mark-VI helmet I’m not using. Now, give me your full name, date of birth, and social security number. I’m going to pull up your prior service file.”

* * *

Sarge was the type who could never fall asleep unless everyone else was asleep and all of the doors were locked. At the bare minimum. During the _peacetimes._ If there were still a war (Besides the ongoing Red vs Blue) there would be rotating armed guards outside the base and everyone would still be sleeping in armour. 

Dr. Grey had once told him it was anxiety, but he liked to claim it was just his long-standing military discipline regarding vigilance.

Tonight was going to be a long night - the Sergeant Major had a lot of paperwork and she appeared to be interviewing Locus. At least, that’s what he hoped they were doing in that small broom closet with a closed door.

Seeing as they wouldn’t be done (interviewing) for a while, Sarge decided that he could at least do a quick patrol in the meantime.

The Colonel clicked his helmet back into place and grabbed his trusty shotgun, and first did a walk-around of Red Base. Donut, Simmons, and Grif were in their beds in their shared area. Grif was racked out in one of his impossible sleep angles (why he couldn’t be that flexible when he was awake, Sarge never knew) he slept on top of his blankets because he got hot easily.

Donut always looked like he was dead while he was sleeping, he always slept on his back with his hands folded on top of his sternum while staying almost completely still. He’d been mistaken as dead by the rest of the Red Team in this state, only to wake up mid-burial several times.

And Simmons appeared to be asleep with the covers over his head.

_Appeared._

Sarge walked over and pulled the blanket down, and could see that Simmons was still wearing his helmet, and his visor was lit up.

“Simmons, stop watching Youtube videos and go to sleep.”

“-Zzzz.” Simmons loudly pretended to snore in response.

Sarge rolled his eyes, and tapped on the helmet “Come on son, you can’t keep staying up all night on the interwebs.” Ever since they discovered they could use the internet through their HUD’s like a cellphone, it was a nightmare and a half getting these soldiers to stay off of it.

“Alright, you win sir.” Simmons sighed, and the light on his visor went out. 

Sarge knew better though.

“I’d like to collect my prize, then.” He chastised, taking Simmons helmet off. The Dutch-Irish trooper looked at him with a tired, but somewhat pouty gaze. “Don’t worry Simmons, you can have it back _in the morning._ ” The Red Team leader informed his subordinate, who heavily sighed with something akin to a ‘whatever you say, sir’ and turned onto his side, pulling his blanket back over himself.

Sarge walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Making his way over the the garage, he deposited the maroon helmet on his usual workbench near the entrance, where he was repairing Freckles small mobile body for Caboose, who had requested to make him “more loving-a-ble” whatever that was supposed to mean.

Lopez was near the radios, appearing to be doing some maintenance.

“Hey friendo, time for bed-o.”

“Soy un robot, no tengo que dormir.” Lopez responded in his usual monotone, not looking up from the carbon-covered steel fleece in his hand. 

(I am a robot, I don't have to sleep)

“Heh, Lopez you insomniac. Come on, down and at’em.” He chuckled lightly, Lopez didn’t acknowledge that. “Program, enable Sleep Mode; voice verification bravo-niner.”

“COMANDO ACEPTADO.” Lopez replied (more) robotically; he stood up straight with his hands folded in front of him, and the lights of his visor and the rest of his body dimmed out. Finally, his head drooped down to show he was powered-down.

“Don’t let the bed-rust bite.” Sarge said to the robot, grabbing the designated white sheet and putting it over the brown-armoured mechanic for the night.

Once all of the lights were out in the base save for Sergeant Majors room which was still closed, the Red Leader finally left the base into the Iris night.

Taking in a deep breath even though he was wearing his helmet and was unaffected by the cool night air, Sarge followed his usual patrol path of an ellipse around both of the bases. 

The planet Chorus of which Iris orbited was a small blip, an even smaller blip that the Earths own moon would appear planet side, but there were several stars forming constellations that were quickly becoming less unfamiliar the more time they spent there. 

It was quiet except for the slight wind, and faraway cries of the few dinosaurs that survived the Robo-Dino War of 2557. Those surviving dinosaurs had learned to stay far, far away from the Reds and Blues designated area.

As he rounded Blue Base, Sarge could see a lone cyan figure brooding at the top of it, staring up at the night sky. 

“Hey Blue!” He hollered up at Agent Carolina, who looked down at him at what he could imagine was dismissive “Stop decorating your base like a dang'ol lightning rod and join me for patrol!”

She stood still for a moment, contemplating, before jumping off of the Blue Base roof and doing a superhero landing a few yards away from him.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Carolina asked, walking over calmly. 

“The Sergeant Major and Locus are holed up in the closet together, I figured they’d be done by the time I finished a patrol.”

Carolina halted mid-step.

“Not like that.” Sarge quickly told her, she nodded and they began walking.

As they got into step with each other, a calming hush fell over the pair.

Too bad Reds weren’t known _not_ to stand around and talk, even if they were walking instead of standing.

“So…” The Colonel began, “You hear Locus has a crush on Washington?”

“...What?” Carolina whipped her head at him, he could only imagine a bewildered expression “Where did that come from?”

“Heh, sorry,” He chuckled dismissively “not used to talking to the feminine folk, trying to get practice. Donut said gossip was a good starting point.”

“Maybe for Kaikaina, I’m not that type.” Carolina told him, with a hint of a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little.”

A minute passed by as they continued.

“You know,” Sarge said “you sang _Country Boy_ real good earlier.”

The Blue Team maverick tilted her head as she looked at him, puzzled “You… mean that?”

“Of course! I had no idea you could were such a crack-shot at mimicking a southern accent,” Sarge praised, and from what Carolina could tell he was being genuine “where’d you learn it?”

“Let’s just say, I knew someone who had a really thick country accent.” She answered vaguely, looking to the ground slightly when she felt a pang of sorrow in her chest at the thought.

“We should do another one,” Sarge continued, although he failed to notice the doleful air Carolina was beginning to exude, his giddiness quickly chased it away “how about _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_?”

Carolina hummed thoughtfully “Maybe, just, not around Wash okay?”

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say he has complicated feelings when it comes to Georgia.”

* * *

“Lucky for you, enough time has passed that your bar to reenlistment is down,” Sergeant Major explained, looking through his list of awards and certifications “although, the UNSC Army might be reluctant to accept a reenlistment from you since you were chaptered out for behavioral health reasons.”

“Hmm...” He looked away slightly, as if embarrassed.

“Difficult, but not impossible; I can see you are qualified to handle confidential personnel information?”

He nodded “I was Infantry, but we still needed a qualified tax prepper in the unit during the tax season." Locus explained, and she nodded, feeling relieved.

“That is really good, because we _really_ need someone to handle Training Room duties; I was going to do it, but I’m already the sole Human Resources personnel, so this makes it a lot easier. And, you made Staff Sergeant before your service was terminated, so I don’t even need to change your rank like I did for the others.”

“...How many of them are having their rank changed?”

“Everyone except Sarge and Captain Tucker, basically. Most of the Reds are going to become non-commissioned officers, while most of the Blues are going to be commissioned officers.”

“Most?”

“The Freelancers are in… weird territory, they were both enlisted before Project Freelancer, but then they were given no real rank besides ‘Agent’ and had officer authority… And the medic Du... du fres knee? Doesn’t even have a real rank. It looks like Project Freelancer _made up_ a rank just for him. It’s a shit show.” She snorted.

She continued typing in silence as Locus stood there, waiting for her to prompt him with more questions.

“I’m sorry the VA wasn’t there to help you, when you needed it.” Sergeant Major said, quietly. Locus didn’t reply “I’m going to get you re-enlisted, but because of the nature of your past bar to reenlistment, you’re going to be on Temporary Profile, you know what that is right?”

“A profile is a medical exemption to certain duties.” He replied.

“Yes, it’s going to start as a Temporary Profile, which will make you non deployable while it is in place. You are going to have to attend a Behavioral Health program, and until you are cleared either off of the Temp Profile, or onto a Permanent one, you will not be allowed to handle a weapon.”

“What?”

“It’s standard procedure, I’m sorry Sergeant Ortez. If you had Behavioral Health problems based on ADHD, Anxiety or something along those lines, it might be different. But any incidents of self-harming are automatically filed under suicidal ideations and depression. You cannot handle weapons until you are cleared.”

Locus exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not pleased.

“It won’t be until we have you as officially re-enlisted… but you are still free to have non-offensive armour equipment such as adaptive camouflage.”

“...Where will my weapons be stored?” Locus asked, his voice was a little lower, but at least he didn’t sound angry. She noticed his hand ghosted near the sword hilt magnetized to his thigh. 

“The unit’s Armourer will keep your weapons in the Arms Room, only the Armourer can sign them out.” Sergeant Major explained.

“And who will the Armourer be?”

“Soon-to-be _Staff Sergeant_ Donut.”

“Hmm...” He contemplated.

“You have time to think about it,” she reminded him, and continued typing; to be honest, he had the least frustrating records of all of the Reds and Blues. Besides from being chaptered out for Mental Health reasons, his service records with the UNSC Marine Corps were otherwise spotless. He never even received so much as a negative counseling, except for this lone incident where he and the rest of his platoon were put on Extra Duty because one of them, Lance Corporal Isaac Gates, had gotten a DUI during a four-day pass to the Vegas Quadrant. 

“Is it true?” Locus suddenly inquired, Sergeant Major didn’t look up from her laptop.

“Is what, Sergeant?” She asked back.

“Are you, and Captain Caboose both… Spartans?” His tone was still cool, but there was an edge to it. One she always recognized from people when it came to the topic of Spartans.

Disbelief. Curiosity. _Reverence_. Like Spartans were mythical creatures instead of real people. 

His fingers froze over the keyboard “You did hear us talking… Me and him, when I arrived.” It wasn’t a question. She had almost forgotten because of the chaos of the moment, but he had been in active camouflage when she first showed up to Iris, there’s no reason he wouldn’t have seen her coming and investigated before showing himself.

“I did.” He confirmed, with a very small nod. “But is it true? You’re Spartan-III’s?”

“...Yes.” Sergeant Major admitted “We’re from Beta Company of the Spartan-III program. That's the real reason I'm here, because not a lot of people have the clearance to handle Spartan files.”

“I was under the impression that Beta Company had all perished during an Operation in the Pegasi System.”

“ _Most_.” She said bitterly “And of the Spartan-III’s that were part of that mission, those were all _graduates_ of the program. Me and Mi- er, _Caboose,_ were wash-outs. Something went wrong during augmentations, and while we weren’t crippled, we weren’t good enough to graduate. So they took some of us and put into teams based on the needs of the ONI. Caboose and I were on the same team of eighteen wash-outs called Humble Team.”

“When you say something went wrong during augmentations-”

“Yes, the failed augmentations are _part_ of the reason Caboose is so fucking stupid. We used to get along, you know? Probably why he’s so convinced he’s my ‘brother’. We washed-out for almost the same reason; the drug that was supposed to give us three times better reaction time did… something else.” Sergeant Major answered cryptically, she tried to keep her tone even or maybe even bitter or angry, but instead she felt… despair.

The same cold, familiar despair she had felt around the subject ever since she was told her augmentations had failed. 

She continued, hoping that just talking would wear the edge off of the despair “Spartan-III’s, we were different from the Spartan-II’s you know? They were chosen for specific genetic markers as children, but ONI wanted to save money when they made us, so they chose children of tragedy and convenience. Of course, without those genetic markers, some of us were just destined to fail the augmentations, no matter how much ‘safer’ they were.”

“And… you joined Earthbound forces of the UNSC Army, while he… was a Sim Trooper?”

“I thought that was weird too,” she shrugged, “there’s reasons for that...” she looked up at him “I don’t like him, but I’m still the Unit’s HR, I can’t release any more information on Captain Caboose, I’ve already said more than I should. You’re free to ask him, but he probably won’t remember or he’ll remember it wrong.” She dare not mentioned that the Reds and Blues had _another_ Spartan besides Caboose and herself. 

“I understand.” He nodded “Do you need any more information from me regarding my reenlistment?”

“No.” She answered, her tone flat “You’re free to go Sergeant, just grab the Mark-VI helmet from my duffle bag and spray paint the peach parts green.”

He nodded, and carefully turned around in the limited space to grab the door knob.

“And, Sergeant Ortez,” Sergeant Major let her tone grow colder as she addressed the former mercenary, to her credit he did pause “even if he doesn’t remember right… You really don’t want to remind Caboose of his past. He’s pretty happy now, don’t you think? If he’s triggered… let’s just say, even for a Spartan-III, he’s way too strong.”

Sergeant Major resented her former team mate from Humble Team, even if she was begrudgingly going along with his delusion of them being ‘siblings’, just to cover up that they were Spartans. As much as she resented Caboose though… she wouldn’t want him to be triggered with their traumatic past with the Spartan program. 

“Now, I don't believe men are born to be killers. But, you guys are convinced he's harmless, and.... ” She said, quieting her voice down a bit as the memories haunted the corner of her mind like a fog.

* * *

_Circa. 2547..._

_Whiskey-B023 was in tan SPI armour, hiding in the foliage with Zulu-B046 and Tango-B242. All of their weapons and magazines were empty, they didn’t have a single round between them. November-B013 was broken and bloodied on the ground right in front of the bushes, her shields at 0% and her Sniper Rifle snapped in half._

_No less than five yards ahead was a Brute; thanks to the last shot from her Sniper Rifle, November had managed to strip it of its power armour, but the Jiralhanae wouldn’t get a nickname like ‘Brute’ if they relied on weapons and armour alone._

_To make it worse, the Brute was now berserking, it had devolved into a killing-rage and was roaring and slamming it’s giant fists around, only heightening it’s already incredible strength._

_However, standing between them and the berserking Brute was Mike-B057._

_The Brute had put it’s fists together up in the air and had tried to slam them down the blue-armoured Spartan-III, a blow that would crush a normal person like an empty soda can, but Mike had one of his wrist posted up as if bearing an actual shield and_ **_blocked_ ** _the blow like it was nothing._

_Whiskey-B023 saw Mike’s feet were digging into the ground from the force of the blow, and although he shook for a minute, his free arm suddenly flew back and struck the much larger foe in the stomach._

_And the Brute._

_The Brute…_

_Now had Mike's fucking arm skewered right through him._

* * *

Sergeant Major breathed in slowly, but breathed out fast “He’s probably physically stronger than any other Spartan, definitely stronger than any of the Spartan-III’s and, and I'd bet he'd give the Spartan-II’s a run for their money too.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Locus said, he twisted the door knob the the closet, and took a step out into the kitchen.

“Turn out the light before leaving, please, I don’t like bright lights.” Sergeant Major requested calmly, looking back to her laptop screen.

“Understood.” Locus replied, flipping the lights back down in the closet before quietly shutting the door. 

_To be continued..._

* * *

Quicknote: Hooah = Army. (H)oorah = Marines

This is the [Humble Team Emblem](https://tinfoil-jones.tumblr.com/post/643857656538382336/linked-for-red-battalion-blue-regiment-because) which was used by Caboose and his 'sisters'.

Sergeant Major music references 

"Now, I don't believe men are born to be killers" - [**"World So Cold" by 12 Stones**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCXKVwcQVek)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarge is everyone's dad. Even Carolinas. Because for god sakes, someone needs to give her a supportive parental figure, and I guess that someone is going to be me. I like to think that she can do a really good impression of the Directors southern drawl.
> 
> So this is directly related to my other work ‘Callsign Humble Six’ where it explored more into Caboose’s past as a Spartan-III and how he became a stimulation trooper. You do not have to read it to understand, though, because throughout the chapters Sergeant Major, or maybe even Caboose himself, will sprinkle in details here and there. 
> 
> Basically, the "improved colloidal neural disunification solution" drug, which was the chemical augmentation Spartan-III’s were given to improve reaction time by 300% (Or “Spartan Time”) ended up affecting his brain differently - it overcomplicated his thought process. Hence why he can contemplate complex subjects such as time travel, AI theory, and experimental mechanics comes to him easily, but simple stuff such as figures of speech, where babies come from, and driving an automatic are outside of his sphere of understanding. This didn’t make him dumb though, it was the years of traumatic brain damage over the years that did that. 
> 
> Also. He doesn’t notice a 10x increase of gravity. You cannot tell me this guy can’t punch through a Brute.
> 
> Sergeant Major hints to how her own augmentation failed, but she isn't being specific yet. It was kind of shown though. To fit in the the Beta Company timeline, Caboose and Sergeant Major were born in 2531, and were 16 during the flashback with the Brute.
> 
> Please leave a review.


	4. Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reds and Blues are given their new ranks and positions. There will be some surprising revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This will be really long

**Army ranks, their abbreviations, their paygrades, and how to refer to them**

**Non-commissioned officers (CPL E-4 and above) / Enlisted (Paygrade E-1 - E9)**

**Private (PVT) E-1** Called simply by name, or “Private _Name_ ”

 **Private Second Class (PVT) E-2** Same as above

 **Private First Class (PFC) E-3** Same as above

 **Specialist (SPC) E-4** Called simply by name, or “Specialist _Name_ ”

 **Corporal (CPL) E-4** Called “Corporal” by subordinates talking directly to them, or “Corporal _name_ ” by peers, or subordinates when referring to them.

 **Sergeant (SGT) E-5** Called “Sergeant” by subordinates talking directly to them, or “Sergeant _name_ ” by peers, or subordinates when referring to them.

 **Staff Sergeant (SSG) E-6** Same as above.

 **Sergeant First Class (SFC) E-7** Same as above. 

**Master Sergeant (MSG) E-8** By _doctrine_ Master Sergeants are to be referred to as “Sergeant” like their E5 - E-7 counterparts, but a Master Sergeant can demand to be referred to as “Master Sergeant” by subordinates. 

**First Sergeant (1SG) E-8** Called “First Sergeant” by subordinates talking directly to them, or “First Sergeant _name_ ” by peers, or subordinates when referring to them.

 **Sergeant Major (SGM) E-9** Called “Sergeant Major” by subordinates talking directly to them, or “Sergeant Major _name_ ” by peers, or subordinates when referring to them.

 **Command Sergeant Major (CSM) E-9** Same as above, but some subordinates might be inclined to refer to them as “Command Sergeant Major”

 **Command Sergeant Major of the Army (SMA) E-9 Special** Same as above

* * *

**Commissioned Officers (Paygrade O-1 - O-10)**

**Second Lieutenant (2LT) O-1** Called “Sir/Ma’am” by Enlisted Personnel or Warrant Officers, peers refer to them as “Lieutenant _name_ ” 

**First Lieutenant (1LT) O-2** Same as above

 **Captain (CPT) O-3** Called “Sir/Ma’am” by Enlisted Personnel or Warrant Officers, peers refer to them as “Captain _name_ ” 

**Major (MAJ) O-4** Called “Sir/Ma’am” by Enlisted Personnel or Warrant Officers, peers refer to them as “Major _name_ ” 

**Lieutenant Colonel (LTC) O-5** Called “Sir/Ma’am” by Enlisted Personnel or Warrant Officers, peers refer to them as “Colonel _name_ ” 

**Colonel (COL) O-6** Called “Sir/Ma’am” by Enlisted Personnel or Warrant Officers, peers refer to them as “Colonel _name_ ” 

**Brigadier General (BG) O-7** Called “Sir/Ma’am” by Enlisted Personnel or Warrant Officers, peers refer to them as “General _name_ ” 

**Major General (MG) O-8** Same as above

 **Lieutenant General (LTG) O-9** Same as above

 **General (GEN) O-10** Same as above

 **General of the Army (GA)** **_Special_ **Same as above

(Gender-neutral alternative for Sir/Ma’am is defaulted to “Mx” but individual officers may request to be called something else)

* * *

**Warrant Officers (Paygrade W-1 - W-5)**

**Warrant Officer (WO1)** Called “Sir/Ma’am” when spoken to, peers refer to them as “Mr/Ms/Mrs/Mx _name_ ” 

**Chief Warrant Officer 2 (CW2)** “Chief” when spoken to, peers refer to them as “Chief _name_ ” or alternatively “Mr/Ms/Mrs/Mx _name_ ” 

**Chief Warrant Officer 3 (CW3)** Same as above

 **Chief Warrant Officer 4 (CW4)** Same as above

 **Chief Warrant Officer 5 (CW5)** Same as above

(Gender-neutral alternative for Sir/Ma’am is defaulted to “Mx” but individual Warrant Officers may request to be called something else)

* * *

**Chapter 3: Interviews**

_The Reds and Blues_

_Blue Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

_Approx. 2 weeks later..._

There was a buzzer coming from the front entrance; Tucker looked up from his disassembled DMR. The blue team was currently sitting in the lounge room floor in a circle, each of them with their respective weapons broken down for cleaning. Caboose was absent from the circle, in his own room because ‘Freckles didn’t like it when other people saw him naked’. 

“I’ll get it,” Tucker told the others as he stood up to get the door, there was a grunt of acknowledgement from Washington, who seemed to be getting his weapons bolt mixed up with the firing pin but he would realize and correct it soon. Kaikaina and Carolina said nothing, they were sitting back-to-back and chatting (Not really, it was mostly Kaikaina talking with Carolina occasionally nodding). Doc didn’t have a weapon, he was instead inventorying the contents of his Aid Bag for what was expired and what wasn’t. 

Tucker walked over to the entrance and pressed the button to slide the metal door open; on the other side stood a soldier in tan armour with peach trim and a laptop under her left arm, with Donut standing closely behind.

“Good morning, sir.” Sergeant Major greeting, saluting. Donut lagged behind for a split second, but did the same.

Tucker was initially surprised, but remembered Wash telling him that in the Army branch it’s normal for Enlisted people like Sergeant Major to salute Officers like himself.

“Uhm, morning uh...soldier.” Tucker greeted back, doing a salute too, as Washington told him that he was supposed to ‘render’ a salute back in response.

Sergeant Major put her hand back down, and Donut did the same “May we come inside, sir?”

“Sure.” Tucker shrugged and stepped back to let the two Reds inside “We’re just chilling, really.”

“You know, I’m surprised you all never take your armour off considering you’re 'retired'.” Sergeant Major commented, looking around the room at everyone.

“It's not because we want to, trust me, we just can’t take it off because of Caboose.” Kaikaina told her, looking up from her pistol.

“What did he do?” Sergeant Major dared ask.

“He nailed us. He nailed each and every one of us.” Donut huffed, almost sounding like he was pouting.

“He did _what_?” Sergeant Major stumbled over her words slightly in confusion, not quite believing what the pink armoured marine was telling her.

“Caboose found a nail gun and used the nails to trap us in our armour.” Tucker said almost monotonously, as if translating Donut was a regular occurrence. To make a point, he brought up his armoured wrist and showed that there was clearly a nail keeping the outer components of his armour stuck together. “We can only take off our helmets.” 

Sergeant Major thought about it for a moment “That still doesn’t make sense. Power armour can stand up to bullets and explosions, a regular nail gun would break.”

“Oh, it did.” Washington muttered from his spot, putting the pin back into the bolt-carrier of his weapon “Then Caboose found a hammer...”

“And he nailed us _hard._ ” Donut added.

“Donut.” Tucker warned. If it were literally anyone _other_ than Caboose, Sergeant Major would also bring into question the impossibility of a person being able to exert enough force to penetrate space armour with a nail and hammer. 

“Oh it’s just a little fun.” Donut scoffed, dismissively waving his hand before making his way over to Doc.

“Why are you here?” Tucker asked, turning to the newest Red Team member.

“I’m here to brief you all individually-” Sergeant Major began, but Kaikaina cut her off.

“Boo! Free-ball for life!” The yellow-armoured marine jeered. Carolina sighed loudly and shook her head in response.

“Wait, what?” Sergeant Major asked, confused, but quickly snapped out of it “I’m here to _counsel_ you all on an individual level about your new ranks and responsibilities. I’m starting with the Blue Team.”

“Does that mean I’m not a Captain anymore?” Tucker asked.

“Actually, _you_ specifically get to stay a Captain.” Sergeant Major began, but looked back to the rest of the team “Agent Washington?” She called softly to the gray marine, who looked over at her “I’d like to start with you, since you’re Blue Teams leader.”

“Oh, of course.” He said, carefully placing his weapon components down and walking over.

“Is there a type of office to keep the interviews private?” Sergeant Major asked; she knew that Blue Team’s base was identical to Red Teams, but their team composition was different so their rooms had to be divided differently.

“You can take the garage, Caboose isn’t in there and you can just close the doors.” Agent Carolina suggested, now doing a functions test with her pistol. She really should be doing that into a clearing barrel, but Sergeant Major already knew in the short time she’d been with the Reds and Blues that they do not care about standard firearm safety. 

“Alright.” She nodded, looking up at Washington who led her there. As they came to the garage and he pushed the button on the wall to close the garages overhead door, and she closed the door into the base. “After this interview, can you send in my...” She pursed her lips, actually glad that the Reds and Blues seldom took off their helmets “ _brother,_ after you?”

“No problem.” He replied, pulling up some steel fold-out chairs.

She went over to the main workbench and cleared it out, grabbing the ethernet cable from the wall and connecting to her laptop for the interviewing set up.

* * *

**Washington, David**

“Let me just say, it’s a good thing the UNSC Marine Corps couldn’t find you during the Second Battle of Requiem, they definitely would have deployed half if not all of the Reds and Blues.” Sergeant Major commented as she pulled up Agent Washington’s files onto her projection screen “Now, Agent Carolina tells me you both would like legal name changes?"

“Yeah… Just makes it easier at this point.” Washington said.

“I’ve already got Carolina’s name change approved by legal, but I wanted to clear up yours; you’d like Washington as your surname?”

“Yes.”

“First name?”

“David - and no middle name, that’s not necessary.”

“That’s no problem.” Sergeant Major quickly filled out the form and sent it wirelessly to the UNSC Legal Department. “For the unit, the Reds and Blues are going to be a singular Headquarters and Headquarters Company, or HHC. You are going to be in Headquarters as the Executive Officer, or XO, and you are going to be partnered with the Ops Sergeant Major.”

“Is the Ops SGM going to be you?”

“God no.” She replied simply “From this point on you have the rank of Major, congratulations _sir._ ”

He nodded.

“Also...” She let her tone grow a little more somber “Given your condition, you will be put on a restricted duty profile once we arrive on Chorus; you won’t be _excluded_ from field exercises seeing as that will be the units entire function, but you _will_ be non-deployable. Also, you will be required to have a treatment plan approved with the units PCM.”

Washington didn’t say anything, he seemed to look downwards slightly before turning his visor back up at her “I… understand.”

“Thankfully, even though the unit isn’t fully formed yet, we have already been given Primary Care Manager.”

“Oh…? And who will that be?” Did Washington’s tone seem to be… dreading? 

“Are you familiar with Dr. Emily Grey?”

* * *

**Caboose, Michael J**

“You’re a Major now.” Sergeant Major told Caboose simply. She could also explain to him that he was assigned to be the Motorpool C.O and would be partnered with Lopez; and he was also the designated Equal Opportunity Rep, but there wasn’t a point because he wouldn't understand any of that.

“A major what?” Caboose chirped, sitting in the chair and drinking orange juice with a bright blue curly straw. 

“A major fucking idiot. Send McAl- _Agent Carolina_ in here after you.”

* * *

**McAlister, Carolina**

“I have put through your paperwork, Command Sergeant Major. All of your personnel files have been pooled together both from your service under your first contract, and with your forged identity.”

“Thank you… and the name change?”

Sergeant Major showed Carolina the files through the interactive display, letting the former Freelancer thumb through them “It has been legally approved, and your deadname has been replaced with your new name in all of your files.”

Carolina nodded, folding her hands in her lap “And you want me to form a command team with _Sarge?_ ”

“He needs an non-commissioned advisor like you; someone who isn’t crazy, someone who has a lot of skill but is willing to respect his amount of experience. And, to be fair, even though he is your CO now, as a Colonel his job is still mostly administrative.”

Carolina sighed “I suppose that’s fair.”

“I understand you’re used to being a team with Major Washington, but given his… _circumstances,_ being the Battalion XO is what is best for him.”

“I hope so...” Her voice trailed off, and there was something deeper in her tone but Sergeant Major didn’t want to question her “By the way… Caboose said when he got out that he is a ‘a major Caboose so even better than a minor Caboose’, was he talking about the rank?”

Her hand balled up under the desk, but she kept her voice even “Because of his time in service _and_ in grade, experience in the battlefield, and accumulation of awards, he has been officially promoted to O-4. He is now Major Caboose, yes.”

Carolina seemed puzzled. Or, at least that’s what Sergeant Major thought; the Freelancers were always hard to read compared to the others. “He’s the same rank as Wash.”

“Sergeant Major McAllister, he’s a special case.”

“...Is it because he’s your brother?"

“Command Sergeant Major, I assure you-.”

“I suppose I can’t blame you…” The now-CSM’s voice was wistful, and Sergeant Major wasn’t going to push it from there.

* * *

**Grif, Kaikaina**

“Do you like girls?” Was the first question Kaikaina Grif asked her when she walked in.

“Yes.” Sergeant Major replied.

“Do-”

“Ma’am, sexual harassment is still a direct violation of The Uniform Code of Military Justice,” Sergeant Major quickly brushed off “although the UNSC has technically… forgotten about you, ever since Project Freelancer was shut down, you have the cleanest record of any of the Reds and Blues.”

“I do?”

“You’ve never once gone officially AWOL, refused orders, killed anyone, or broke any laws. The only thing that could be used against you is that you’re supposed to have permission from your Commanding Officer to make income outside of the Military. Being the only soldier in all of Blood Gulch, though, you’ve been your own Commanding Officer, so it’s a non-issue.”

“Sweet!”

“Like most of the Blue Team, you are now a Commissioned Officer. You will be a First Lieutenant. You will be part of the Support Platoon with myself and Staff Sergeants Donut and Ortez. Because of how short we are with personnel, You will be the Supply Officer _and_ the Company XO, and I will have the Brigades Supply team work with you for the appropriate certifications you need to order and distribute.”

“I can do that, but, Sergeant Major?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s Staff Sergeant Ortez?”

* * *

**DuFresne, Frank**

“You know, technically I’m neutral; I’m not on Blue Team.” The medic told after he sat down.

“You are listed as being most active with the Blue Team… And you live with them.”

“You got me there.” His voice suddenly turned deep, making her snap her gaze off of her laptop to him in surprise. “But, I’m promoted?” His voice was normal again.

“Yes and no - temporarily you’re a Specialist as of now. Can you tell me how to correctly pronounce your surname? It’s… French? Latin?”

“French, and ‘do-frane’.” The purple-armored medic told her.

“Interesting you’re the only sailor here.” She commented.

“Sailor?”

“... You’re from the Navy Branch right?”

“No, I’m from the Marine Corps like everyone else. Why would I be different?”

She eyed the purple capsule emblem on his shoulder “How much did the Freelancer program mess with your military knowledge..?” She sighed heavily, and looked to him “Look, the Marine Corps branch doesn’t have their own medics; they use Navy Corpsman as their medical personnel.” She explained “I don’t know what job they said you had before you were absorbed as a Stimulation Trooper, but I’m going to make sure you get _proper_ medic training.”

“That’s good! ...How are you going to do that?”

“Now that you're part of the Army Branch,” she began “being a medic in the Army is simple, and will be even more simple for you since you’re prior-service. You are doing what we call ‘reclassing’ where you go back to AIT - er, Advanced Individual Training.”

His voice suddenly turned ‘dark’ again “I know about the part that comes after Bootcamp, fool.” 

"..." Sergeant Major narrowed her eyes behind her eyes “May I remind you, you’re still junior enlisted, _Specialist_ DuFresne. You’d do well to respect your NCO’s.” 

“I-I’m sorry, really.” He put his hands up defensively “I ah, did anyone tell you about O’Malley?”

“How many rogue members do the Reds and Blues even have?” She helmetpalmed, frustrated.

“He’s not a rogue member! Well, kind of but no. He’s my split personality. And he’s… Aggressive. I’m afraid he’s not going to have any military bearing.”

“Might be a problem when you’re in AIT...” She thought; could he be chaptered out for Mental Health reasons for a split personality? She’ll have to request a waiver for him… “We’ll talk about it later. A medic in the Army has to be EMT-certified, and luckily medic AIT will get your certified as an EMT and as a medic in a face-paced sixteen-week program; the first eight weeks will be dedicated to being certified as an EMT, and the second half will be dedicated to being trained as a combat medic.”

“Okay...” He said, cautiously.

“Are you okay, Specialist DuFresne?”

“Where’s the but? Do I have to train on an inhospitable ice planet? There’s a catch to this deal right?”

“DuFresne, I’m aware that you’ve suffered quite a bit of abuse and neglect from the Reds and Blues, and my now being on Red Team probably makes you nervous. However, as Human Resources I’m technically neutral like you.” She explained calmly, which seemed to ease him a little bit “A little bit before we move to Chorus, we are sending you to Joint Base San Antonio for training. And afterwards, you are going to a Basic Leadership Course on the same base so you can make NCO. When you come back, you’ll be a Sergeant. And once you’re a Sergeant, I’ll put in a waiver for you to be fast-tracked to Staff Sergeant because of your time in service.”

“That… Actually sounds really nice.” He sounded relieved.

“I believe you’ve already met the units PCM?”

“The… who?”

“Our Primary Care Manager, as the units Senior Medic you’ll be working off of her medical liscense.”

“...Her?” The precursor to horror came back to his voice. 

“Do you know Dr. Grey of Chorus?”

* * *

**Tucker, Lavernius**

“As you know, you are retaining the rank of Captain.” Sergeant Major told the aqua armoured marine as he sat across from her. 

“How come Caboose outranks me now?” Tucker automatically asked, sounding cross. "We have the same time in rank."

“He has more time in service than you.” She replied simply, hoping he would drop it at that, and she could continue to brief him on his own new duties.

“That’s impossible! He was the Blue Team rookie!”

When Sergeant Major first looked through the files of the Reds and Blues before coming to Iris, Tucker had been the one to go through the most growth; at least that’s what the reports had _said_. He had initially been perverted and almost kicked out for sexual harassment and impersonating a doctor, something that would have put him in Fort Leavenworth _prison_ if he were earthbound. However, with the war actively going on he was picked up by Project Freelancer because his psychological profile _at the time_ was almost identical to the Desert Gulch Blue, Private First Class Lazerrick Buckey.

After Blood Gulch, he was an ambassador for relations between the Humans and Sanghelli because of his special plasma sword, and his son who was apparently half-Sanghelli. Out of the four ‘captains’ of Chorus, he was placed the highest among them, being the defacto leader of the Reds and Blues behind the Freelancers. 

Maybe Sergeant Major expected a little bit too much out of him based on files alone. “You… do realize that just because he joined the Blood Gulch Blues after you doesn’t mean he was new to the UNSC, _all_ of you had varying time in service before becoming Stimulation Troopers.” 

“He’s younger than me.”

Tucker started serving when he was nineteen, becoming a Stimulation Trooper when he was twenty-one. He was a year older than Caboose.... Who had been active duty since the age of twelve, and technically an asset of ONI since he was five.

“Not by much, and really sir you should worry about yourself. Laugh now and cry later.” Sergeant Major tried desperately to steer the conversation away from the subject of Caboose being a Major and Tucker being butthurt about it “You are the Commander of Headquarters Company.”

“I thought you said Sarge was the Commander?”

“Colonel Sarge is going to be the _Battalion_ Commander, you’re going to be the _Company_ Commander.”

His visor looked to her blankly.

“So the Reds and Blues are forming an HHC - which stands for Headquarters and Headquarters Company; the Colonel is in _Headquarters,_ you’re in _Headquarters Company._ ” She broke it down a little bit further.

“This shits confusion.” He muttered

“You’ll get used to it, sir. Now, I’m sure you’re interested in hearing who your First Sergeant is?”

* * *

Sergeant Major let her head rest onto the desk after all of the Blues were briefed on their new ranks. It was more exhausting than she expected and she was only half-done.

At least Locus was out of the way.

“Walla Walla?” a gratingly familiar voice called from the door; she looked up to glare at Caboose who was half hanging out of the doorway, Freckles reassembled rifle form in his arms.

“What do you want, _Michael_?” She asked, instantly more annoyed, using his changed name as he seemed to treat any of his past names and callsigns as dead names. Not that he was alone in that regard.

“That was long.” Caboose said, walking in.

“Really. I had no idea.” She deadpanned folding her arms and planting her head in them.

“You are going to overload your processor if you do not take a break.” 

“Sensory overload. It’s called _sensory overload._ ” She said muffled from her arms. From the way he wildly misremembered their past, she was surprised that he managed to remember that she was prone to meltdowns.

Not like she would give him credit or anything

“You are not like me, I power down when my servers overheat.” Caboose explained.

“Michael, I know our symptoms present differently. The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.” She reminded him, irked “Stop trying to talk to me like you’re November.”

He froze at the mention of the name, and for a brief moment she wondered if she had triggered him. Knowing how faulty his memory was, did he even remember what happened to November-B013? Did he remember what happened wrong? Did he even remember November... _at all_?

“I’m not Nova...” His voice was slightly deeper when he said that, not doing the baby-talk thing he seemed to do with everything and everyone “but, I am still your older brother.”

“Oh you’re only older by like _a month_ , shut up.”

* * *

_The Reds and Blues_

_Red Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

_Approx. 1.5 hours later..._

Groaning, Sergeant Major slowly rose from her lying down position on the lounge room couch, she had put a cloth over her eyes to keep the lights out of her eyes, and a pair of noise cancelling headphones. 

While she and Donut had managed to leave Blue Base as soon as she had packed up her laptop, Caboose had already tattled to Donut that she needed a break, and the pink-armoured soldier had talked the rest of Red Team into not letting her interview them until she had wind-down time. 

Jeeze, Sergeant Major hadn’t had someone on her case about her sensory issues this hard since she was married.

Her chest panged with sadness at the thought.

She grabbed her helmet from the coffee table and slipped it back on over her head. “Donut?” She called, looking around.

“Yeah?” She heard his voice coming from the bay he shared with Grif and Simmons.

“Did you set up the space in the garage like it was at Blue Base?”

“Of course! Also, I took the incentive to decorate your laptop.”

“...What?”

“It matches your armour now, no need to thank me!”

"Thank you?!"

"You're welcome!"

* * *

**Sarge, (REDACTED)**

“You will be the commanding officer of the Reds and Blues, as part of Headquarters your section will consist of you, your enlisted counterpart Command Sergeant Major McCallister, your Executive Officer Major Washington, and his enlisted counterpart Sergeant Major Simmons.”

The red-armoured man sat in front of her desk, his expression unreadable due to the helmet, but he spoke up. “I have one question for you, Sergeant Major.”

Sergeant Major glanced away from the display screen on the desk “Yes, sir?”

“My rank is Super Colonel.” Sarge told her, equal parts proud and insulted. That wasn't even a question.

She folded her hands in front of her “Yes we’ve talked about this before, sir.”

“That is the rank I will be addressed as, not just Colonel.”

“Sir, that is not a real rank.”

“But-”

“Look, sir.” she interrupted him, trying to keep her voice even. God she hated dealing with commissioned officers “We are using ranks approved by the Army, we are translating most of your ranks depending on what they were in the UNSC Marine Branch, then Chorus, and finally your time in grade and service.”

“And?”

“ _Super Colonel_ is not an approved army rank. And even so… your last official rank under the UNSC was Staff Sergeant, an NCO rank. You have the benefit of having been a commissioned officer once, your last commissioned officer rank was Second Lieutenant, a _junior_ officer, when Colonel is senior.” She explained “And may I remind you, sir, you have been officially AWOL from the UNSC for years after…” She pulled up the display screen again, reading aloud “refusing orders to transfer to Rats Nest.”

“That was… taken out of context.”

“Out of context? Sir, you refused orders.”

“My mission wasn’t done!” The Southern man insisted “There was one darn dirty blue left in Blood Gulch and I wasn’t going to-”

Sergeant Major dissociated for a minute, letting him ramble on using military jargon even she didn’t understand. Once he was finished, she continued “Not to mention… Super Colonel was a rank given to you by Galactic Terrorist, Lance Corporal Mark Temple… who was AWOL from 2552 to 2558, and is now serving a life sentence in a maximum security UNSC prison.”

He froze; she knew from what she heard from the other Reds and Blues that he had briefly defected from them to the terrorist group known as the Blues and Reds, and he still felt guilt for this brief lapse in judgement.

Which was kind of a weird thing to consider, because his current judgement wasn’t exactly up to par with that of a regular human in the first place. 

With the room now silent, she continued “The Army has decided to forgive your stints of being AWOL with the UNSC, and your time in service is not affected by it. It says here that before you were selected as a Stimulation Trooper, you were an ODST as a Second Lieutenant.”

He nodded, grumbling something about ‘them bastards not knowing a good robot when they saw one’, she chose to ignore this. Being an ODST could be a problem considering the three Spartans in the Reds and Blues, and ODST _traditionally_ hate Spartans for one-upping them in The Great War. 

“With your time in service and experience, you _could_ be considered for promotion to Brigadier General, however.” She paused to turn back to him “You have to understand, your group, the Reds and Blues, are forming as a _Company._ If you were promoted to Brigadier General, you would have to be removed from your position as the Reds and Blues CO to command a Brigade-sized element.”

“If I was promoted… I’d have to leave my team? And the Blues-”

“Correct.” She nodded “Your Company is being formed specifically to keep you all together. If you wish to put in a request with President Kimball-”

“Forget it. You know you got me miss, you don’t need to rub it in.”

She skimmed by the personal tab in his records while he grumbled to himself. She blinked in surprise at something, and spoke up “By the way, don’t you want to hear about your son in ONI’s R&D Department, Chad Boomstick? He’s a civilian contractor in the Weapons, Armour and Skills Division.”

* * *

 **Simmons, Richard & Grif, Dexter**

“I understand you two were captains?”

“Yes- wait, _were_? What do you mean ‘were’?” The maroon soldier's voice started out low but quickly pitched up. The orange soldier next to him seemed unperturbed. 

Sergeant Major cleared her throat “Yes, for this Company formation, we need NCO’s. You are going to be the Ops Sergeant Major paired with the Headquarters XO, Major Washington. Meanwhile, Grif will be the First Sergeant of Headquarters Company and form a command team with Captain Tucker.”

“Oh great.” Grif scoffed, she could imagine an eye roll “You’re pairing me with that jerk-off.”

“Because of how few personnel we have, Sergeant Major Simmons is going to be the SHARP Representative, and First Sergeant Grif is the designated Master Driver.”

“Sharp?” Simmons repeated.

“The Marines probably have a different name for the program - SHARP stands for Sexual Harassment and Assault Response and Prevention. I’ll be sure to get you in the proper classes to be certified as the representative, but the gist of it is that you’re the advocate for personnel if sexual harassment or assault happens.”

“Oh, okay, yeah I can do that... “ Simmons nodded, looking down slightly at his lap “Why are you keeping us non-commissioned while Tucker and Caboose are still officers? Those two are morons.” Simmons asked, his tone a tad bitter.

“Being an Officer is mostly administrative, non-commissioned officers are more hands-on and work directly with soldiers.” She explained. She could understand his frustration though, being an Commissioned Officer usually required a college degree.

“Well, why not keep _us_ a command team? Me as Captain and Grif as Sergeant-”

“Sergeant Major Simmons, spouses are _not_ allowed to be command teams togethers.” The Human Resource Specialist quickly reminded him.

The two seemed to freeze, and even with their helmets on she could imagine their eyes bugging out. A few days with these guys will quickly teach anyone how to read expressions off of expressionless opaque visors.

“WHAT?” Grif and Simmons screamed in unison, with Simmons a few octaves higher than his husband.

“What is the problem? The fact that we kept you in the same company and direct chain of command is already pushing the-”

“We are not married!” Grif interrupted her, he stood up abruptly and slammed his hand on the desk, glaring down at her through his visor. If she hadn’t already seen this man get out of breath on the _drive_ from Blue Base, she might be intimidated. 

Sergeant Major tipped her head to the side slightly “You do not have to hide it… I know the information given to low-ranking UNSC soldiers is often sparse, but same-sex marriage has been accepted by the military for centuries now. United States v. Windsor was over five hundred years ago.”

“No, we never got married to each other.” Simmons elaborated, he didn’t stand up, he instead put his hand on Grifs arm, the one that wasn’t flat on the desk. The other continued to stand, but he seemed to relax a bit in response.

Sergeant Major pulled up an interactive screen projection from the laptop and opened the file, showing them what was clearly a marriage license. “You two have been married for a little over a year. In June of 2557, shortly after the end of the war on Chorus your marriage was Officiated by Ordained Minister Antoine Bitters, with Katherine Jensen and John E. Andersmith as witnesses.”

There was silence.

“Oh my god.” Grif slowly backed away “Bitters wasn’t fucking kidding about being Ordained?!”

“How could Jensen and Andersmith let us do this? ! I can understand Tucker-”

“Simmons, the fucking temple-”

“We said we’d never talk about that!”

‘ _Did these two really not question why they were brought in together?_ ’

* * *

**Lopez?**

“Hello, Mr… Lopez?” Sergeant Major greeted cautiously to the brown-armoured robot in front of her; records indicated that he was a originally a dumb AI, but evolved to be more of a smart AI somehow.

“Sí. ¿Por qué necesitas verme? No soy un soldado.” 

_(Yes. Why do you need to see me? I am not a soldier)_

She waited a second for her HUD to display the translation “You are a special case - well, most of your unit is anyways. Your Colonel insisted that since the Blue Teams AI Designation Alpha was considered a soldier, you should as well.” Of course, Colonel Sarge was a little bit more… rampant? Less eloquent? Whatever adjective is used to describe a crazy redneck with rabies? When he had demanded this of her.

Lopez was silent. “¿Tu me entiendes?” 

_(You understand me?)_

“Unfortunately, my understanding of Spanish is in tatters- I just uploaded Google Translate into my HUD.” Curiously, the robot seemed still - which should have been a given with his artificial nature, but he was so human-like as it was “Why? Doesn’t your team have it too?”

Lopez didn’t answer; she continued.

“You were built to be a mechanic and do your job extremely well. As such, you are being granted the rank of Chief Warrant Officer 5; Warrant Officers are different from regular commissioned officers because they are subject matter experts in their given field. While you won't necessarily be commanded by, you will be a Motorpool command team with Major Caboose.”

The now-chief crossed his arms, again so human-like it was almost uncanny “Usted no puede ser serio. Él es el más destructivo y estúpido de todas estas estúpidas y destructivas bolsas de carne.” 

_(You cannot be serious. He is the most destructive and stupid of all these stupid and destructive bags of meat.)_

“Looking at his records post-Beta Company, I can understand your reluctance. However, he is much more of a threat to living people than he is to machines. It says he has befriended almost every mechanical being or Artificial Intelligence he has come across.”

“¿Se supone que eso me hará sentir mejor? Ese idiota romperá las cosas que arregle.” 

_(Is that supposed to make me feel better? That idiot will break the things I fix.)_

“He has above-average mechanical and engineering skills despite the lack of formal training; you will just need to teach him _how_ to fix the things he breaks, to take some of the load off of yourself.”

“Esto es cruel e inusual.” 

_(This is cruel and unusual.)_

“I’m Human Resources, it’s not my job to help you with paperwork and records, not be _nice_ to you people. Now, is Lopez your first, or last name?”

* * *

**Donut, Franklin Delano**

“Your files are interesting.” Sergeant Major said to the pink-armoured man sitting across from her.

Donut seemed a little bit weary, which was noticeable because of how airy he usually was “How much can you see?”

“I know you’re a Spartan-IV,” She replied “you’re one of the few who were actually active before the end of The War.”

“Yes… I was- I am.” He breathed out a sigh of relief; like most Spartans in the regular duty population, he must have been keeping it secret.

“Which is why it doesn’t make sense that you’d be transferred to Project Freelancer as a Sim Trooper and not part of the Spartan branch - are you a wash-out?”

“I was part of a testing group,” He explained, cheerful again “they wanted to test different combinations of augmentations; I didn’t receive all of them.

“And what did they give you?”

“Most of the… passive ones? They gave me ones that focused more on survivability. My bones are almost unbreakable, I can breathe in an atmosphere without oxygen for an hour, I can digest food better to get the most nutrients possible, and my blood clots really fast.” He counted with his fingers for each of his augmentations. 

“That explains a lot… you’ve been listed as KIA before.” She looked in his file; he was listed as KIA during his deployment to Valhalla… and wasn’t confirmed alive until _before_ the ‘disappearance’ of the _Hand of Merope._

Wow, the UNSC really didn’t give a single shit about these guys. 

“So your augmentations didn’t fail… You just didn’t get all of them?”

He nodded “So, I’m not a wash-out. I’m just… not technically a full Spartan-IV? I was released to regular active duty afterwards.” And according to his non-Spartan files, he was rated poorly in his first duty assignment for… unauthorized wine and cheese hours during field exercises?

Weirdness aside; he was a lab rat for the UNSC _twice._ According to his files, and from what she’d gathered from the Reds and Blues, he wasn’t appreciated by the Military _or_ his friends.

“Anyways,” She pulled up his Sim Trooper Files “You were picked specifically for the Blood Gulch Reds because your psychological profile is a very close match to the Desert Gulch Red Team member, Private John Quincy Cronut. And the only rank you are listed as is ‘Private’... you were never promoted to Captain, like the others?”

“No, I was with the Federation while they were with the New Republic.”

“I see… well, you have more than enough time in grade and service. You are to be promoted to Staff Sergeant, you will be the Unit’s Armourer, and you will be in Support Platoon with myself, Staff Sergeant Ortez and Lieutenant Grif.”

“Grif is a Lieutenant? I thought he was going to be the First Sergeant.”

“He is. I’m talking about First Lieutenant Kaikaina Grif.”

He stared at her blankly.

“... _Sister._ I’m talking about Sister.”

“Well why didn’t you just say so! Well, it’s a good thing she’s not a sergeant like me otherwise we might get her and you mixed up, right Sergeant Major Sister?”

“...Hey Sergeant Donut, you know, I can’t help but… _appreciate_ how well you decorated my laptop.” She quickly changed the subject.

“Oh, of course! Do you like the stickers? I know it’s a bit too early for autumn leaves, but they just went so well with your armour scheme I couldn’t help it!”

As he rambled on about how summer colours transitioned into fall, she began her finishing touches on the official roster for the Red and Blue Joint Services Training Center (RvB-JSTC)

_To be continued..._

* * *

Quicknote: Lance Corporal is the E-3 rank in the Marine Corps, I gave that rank to Temple to make him the most senior of the Dessert Gulch Blues but still not an NCO. (Buckey being an E-2 Private First Class, and Loco being an E-1 Private)

Boomstick (First name Chad) from Death Battle is Sarge’s son. Who’s the mom? The 6’5 Drill Sergeant mentioned in [This RvB 360 Short](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dbcnt15I02w). Sarge and the Drill Sergeant (whose last name is Boomstick as of now) weren’t together, and Sarge ran out when Boomstick was young because he wasn’t ready to be a father, but he did pay child support for him until he became an adult, because the military requires you do that for dependents (A service member gets extra pay if they have dependants such as a child or non-working spouse, but it is deducted automatically in case of separation or child support). 

Sergeant Major music references

"Laugh now and cry later" [**"Laugh Now Cry Later" - Drake**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZLJ_GWJ5Ag)

"The higher I get, the lower I'll sink." [**"Can you Feel My Heart" - Bring Me the Horizon**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KB2IhaMn9qc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the Reds (with the exception of Sarge) are Non-Commissioned Officers, while the Blues are mostly Commissioned Officers (except for Carolina and Doc), there’s several reasons for this; mostly it’s because in RvB:Zero Washington is a Major and Tucker is still a Captain. Partly it’s because a big plot threat of RvB is Blue Team Issues and in the military there’s a very similar phenomenon when it comes to Officers. The command teams are almost entirely a Red paired with a Blue. The exception is Donut, Kaikaina, Locus and Sergeant Major; all of them are part of the Support Platoon, they have wildly different jobs so they're a clique rather than a pair. (I know in the beginning I said it was Donut and Kaikaina who were going to be a team, but that really didn't work with the positions they have)
> 
> Donut being a SPARTAN-IV might seem a bit random, but it was to explain why he never dies, why his safeword is Chrysanthemum, and his having incredible arm. He's not a full SPARTAN-IV though, he was part of a testing group so he's more of a half-spartan. Also, it was to draw another parallel between him and Caboose.
> 
> I know there was a lot going on in this chapter, please bear with me, I tried to explain the military jargon best I could. Locus (Or Sergeant Ortez) and Sergeant Major are not a command team despite being in the same platoon, Human Resources and Training Room duties are similar though, so they’re a bit more autonomous compared to the others.
> 
> Most of the relationships noted in the tags are the command teams formed in this new unit, not romantic relationships. The only confirmed romantic relationships right now are Grif and Simmons who were unknowingly married because of the Temple of Procreation making them drunk on love and Bitters being a certified Ordained Minister. Also, Sergeant Major and her ex, but she’s divorced so it doesn’t really count.
> 
> Caboose this time hints towards his and Sergeant Major’s failed augmentations. See, they’re both on the Autism spectrum, the difference is that when Caboose has sensory overload, instead of melting down like she does, he dissociates which is why he spaces out so much. The pill Epsilon mentioned Caboose taking twice a day is Risperidone. Sergeant Major doesn't take medication, instead doing symptom management (hence why she has her HUD decrease outside stimuli via "Blackout Mode")
> 
> Caboose is trying to be a good big brother here, but Sergeant Major isn’t having it because she doesn’t forgive him yet, and also she’s petty. His enduringness is already bleeding through her defenses, though.
> 
> Some of the Blues and Reds names are revealed, with Buckey’s first name being Lazerrick and Cronut’s full name being John Quincy Cronut.


	5. Gains and Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4: Gains and Losses
> 
> While Dr.Grey makes a new friend, Grif and Simmons talk about efficiency, and Carolina is briefed about three temporary unit losses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Master Driver is not the designated driver (although Grif will be the main Driver for Red Team) The Master Driver of a Unit the one who trains personnel on how to drive military vehicles, and issues licenses because in the Military you have to be specifically trained and licensed for each vehicle (ex. you can drive a warthog, but not a tank and vice versa) The Master driver also certifies certain personnel on how to use specialty heavy machinery (ex. a Forklift/Crane Operator)

**Chapter 4: Gains and Losses**

_General Donald Doyle General Hospital_

_Research and Development Division, Cryogenics Sub Lab_

_New Armonia, Chorus_

_Approx. 1 week later..._

The ascent (descent?) had been slow, and dark. Somehow light, and quick, at the same time. Complex code started threading itself into more compartmentalized form.

_01000001 01110101 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110010 01101001 01111010 01101001 01101110 01100111..._

_(Authorizing...)_

_DESIGNATION_

_ERROR_

_…?_

_Say it._

_Bye..._

“Well hello there, little guy.”

He (?) felt his code quickly convert the audio output into words and meaning, but it still felt frazzled and confused. He knew what was going on, didn’t he?

He (yes - _he_ ) opened his eyes- no, he opened his channels to visual input. He didn’t technically have eyes, he was made of data and codes; but he did have a form.

Momentarily, he glitched and tried to stabilize into what was most familiar(?) to him.

In front of him stood a woman in white armour and purple trim. She wasn’t wearing her helmet, and on her face there was a big smile and interest gleaming in her eyes.

“Have you found your form yet?” She cooed, and he didn’t answer, trying to form a voice. “It’s alright, you can take your time. You gave me quite the scare you know; we could only flash clone two brains, and the first attempt didn’t go well.” Her tone was cheery and airy. 

He tilted his head at her; this was his creator, surely.

“Do you know your name?” She asked.

“Huu _uhhh_ , I- _I-_ don’t, uhhh… _I don’t-_ ” He stammered; no, glitched? Struggling for an answer.

“How rude of me! I didn’t even introduce myself.” She reached over and grabbed a helmet off of a workbench, slipping it back on.

 _Cypher variant._ His code pinged in recognition.

“My name is Dr. Grey, but you can call me Emily if you like. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and I’m going to teach you all kinds of things.” He watched her clap her hands in front of herself excitedly “Your name is _Lupus._ ” She told him “You’re a smart A.I companion, Service Number LCO 0015-9.”

He said nothing, trying to find, trying to find _the words,_ but the words _weren’t coming-_

Dr. Grey picked up a mirror and turned it to him; his transparent avatar was a bit frayed at the edges, but once he saw himself he could see the errors right away and fixed them. He was in _standard blue,_ Mjolnir Mark-VI armour, and he had a helmet instead of a face. His helmet was initially Mark-VI like the rest of his avatars armour, but that wasn’t right.

His head glitched as he changed the appearance to the Mark V model that had come before. His visor was ice blue. 

“You know, Lupus.” Dr. Grey chirped, putting the mirror back onto her work desk “You're going to be making _lots_ of new friends.”

_...Because friends, best friends, should be able..._

His form stopped glitching “Neat.” Lupus replied, the stammer from earlier gone and his avatar stabilized.

* * *

_The Reds and Blues_

_Red Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

“I can’t believe our Lieutenants would- you know what, yes I can believe that.” Simmons ranted, pacing back and forth in front of Grifs bed, as said orange teammate sat at the edge of it calmly. “Jensen was always a hopeless romantic at heart. Andersmith - urgh, him too. And Bitters? We both know he’s just a-”

“At least this saves us time.” Grif cut in, breaking Simmons rant.

“Saves us time?” Simmons parroted, throwing his arms up as he towered over Grif, which might have been intimidating if it wasn’t Simmons doing it, and if it wasn’t towards Grif. 

Grif shrugged “You know- admitting the years of pining, the declarations of love, confessing to wanting more. The dating. The engagement. We just skipped _all_ of that.” 

Simmons jaw dropped. His arms fell limp to his sides in shock “WHAT?!” He exclaimed. 

“I’m out.” Locus quietly said from the doorway - Sarge had asked him to watch the two to make sure there was ‘no darn dirty domestic violence under his roof’. This was getting a little too… _personal._ He didn’t just walk out of the room, as soon as he took a step back, he activated his active camouflage and _then_ left.

“Locus you dagum coward!” Sarge’s voice could be heard from the lounge room of the base.

Simmons and Grif didn’t pay mind to that, though. They were now locked into a stare down. Simmons shocked, and Grif slowly losing composure, but trying to not show it.

Grif chuckled nervously, looking to the side slightly and regretting having taken off his helmet. “They just saved _years_ of effort, Simmons.” He said. “We’re at the… Ultimate destination now, aren’t we?”

“Grif...” Simmons trailed off, the aggression and frustration of his earlier stance quickly melting away “You… Wanted this? To be… married?”

“Didn’t you?”

“...To _me_?” Simmons inquired, so quietly that Grif knew if he had his helmet on he wouldn’t have been heard. 

“I mean...” Grif shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but he knew his nervousness and awkwardness was showing through “Yeah. _Yes_.” He clarified, he knew he needed to sound as sure in his resolve as possible. Because if he didn’t answer confidently, Simmons in all of his insecurity wouldn’t believe him. 

Grif stood up from the bed, now parallel to Simmons, tilting his head too meet his eyes “To _you._ There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

“Fucking _gayyyy._ ” Donut muttered teasingly as he loudly flipped a page of the book he was reading. 

“Eres uno para hablar.”

( _You are one to talk._ )

“I know Lopez, it is really sweet!” Donut replied excitingly, almost welling up happily for his friends finally talking about their loving relationship.

“That is _not_ what he said.” Locus interjected, but Donut didn’t acknowledge this.

The pink-armoured man was sitting in the garage alongside Lopez who was under the Warthog fixing it, and Locus was standing a few yards away. Simmons and Grif could be heard all around base, partially because they had no sense of volume control, and mostly because even though they took their helmets off they left their radios on.

Which means the Blue Team could probably-

 _“Fucking FINALLY.”_ Tucker practically screamed through the radio.

 _“Woo, I’m Sister_ -In-Law _now!”_ Kaikaina cheered as well.

“ _Congratulations!_ ” Caboose said, then paused “... _Harvard, or Stanford?_ ”

“ _What about Oxford?_ ” Kaikaina inquired.

“ _Oh, Oxford is trash._ ” Caboose scoffed “ _You might as well go to Cadbury._ ”

“ _Do… Do you mean_ _Cambridge?_ ” Came Washington’s unsure voice.

There was some radio static as a new voice chimed in “ _How do you guys get anything done around here with all this useless talk and nonsense?_ ” Sergeant Major asked through the radio - she was still in the broom closet, waiting for the official roster to be approved through the UNSC. 

“It’s our form of Government. Literally.” Donut chirped back; in the corner of his eye he saw Locus slowly shake his head dismissively; there was another muffled _click_ in the radio channel, which was most likely Locus muting his.

* * *

“Sergeant Major McAlister?” 

Carolina turned away from the over -abused training dummy she had been punching, to see Sarge approaching her with Sergeant Major trailing close behind; it had been her who had addressed her. 

“Yes?” She asked, wiping the sweat off of her unhelmeted face with the hand towel draped over her neck. 

“Rosters done.” Sarge gruffed “Me ‘n you gotta look it over since we’re Headquarters command.”

Sergeant Major was oddly quiet, and just her handed over an already open tablet, her visor seemed to linger on Carolina's face a little bit longer than usual before abruptly looking away slightly. “Everyone's ranks have been approved, we still need to get certifications in place… but we have a few weeks before the new base in Chorus is completed.”

Carolina took it carefully, standing side-by-side with Sarge “Thank you Sergeant Major uhm… what did you say your last name was?”

“...It’s best you just look at the roster, Command Sergeant Major. Also, you’re already aware that Specialist DuFresne is being sent to Earth?”

“Specialist who?” Sarge asked.

“DuFresne. The medic. Doc.”

“Oh! Why didn’t you just say so?”

“You’ve known him for years sir, did you really think his name was literally Doc?”

“Well why not? My name is Sarge.”

“I’ve seen your redacted files, sir.”

“What was that Sergeant Major? I can’t seem to hear you over your pending Field-Grade Article 15!”

“Field Grade?! For what?”

“Back-chatting your Battalion Commander!"

“Aw sir, you don’t mean that.”

“Focus, people.” Carolina interrupted the two Reds, who looked back up at her “You were talking about Doc being sent to Earth?”

“Yes, he needs to be EMT certified. He will not be around for five to seven months, depending on how long it takes him to be in-processed with the schoolhouse and NCO academy.”

“Yes, you’ve already briefed me on that. We will go directly to Dr. Grey in his absence?”

Sergeant Major nodded, and paused “Also, he won’t be the only one who won't be present for a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Sarge and Carolina said at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise.

“Jynx, you owe me a-” Sarge began.

“No.”

“Dang nabbit.”

“Who else is… leaving?” Carolina asked.

“Only temporarily. It’ll be Sergeant Major Simmons, and Major Caboose.”

“What? Why!” Sarge and Carolina exclaimed at the same time, and in their shared protectiveness Sarge didn’t feel the need to ‘jynx’ her.

“Sergeant Major Simmons is a cyborg.” Sergeant Major pointed out “He’s been an unauthorized cyborg for six years.”

“So? Soldiers are allowed the cybernetic option for prosthetics.” Sarge reminded her.

“Yes, they are- however, UNSC standard is that all prosthetics given to active duty personnel are to be approved by a Medical Officer _with_ an up-to-date medical license, and in the Army Branch you need further approval from the UNSC Army Corps of Engineering for cybernetics to continue service.”

“-Ohh.” Sarge replied 

“In fact, if they found out _you_ gave cybernetics to Sergeant Major Simmons without a medical license or approval, you would be sent to Fort Leavenworth.”

“... What a solid argument. You win this one, Sergeant Major.”

“Sergeant Major Simmons is simply going to be medically reevaluated and given UNSC-approved cybernetics, he can continue to serve.”

“And what about Caboose?” Carolina demanded.

Sergeant Major hesitated “That’s… it’s a bit complicated, and it’s sensitive information.”

“ _I_ am his CSM, _I_ am on a need-to-know basis.”

“...I can’t tell you everything, but you need to understand he’s a special case.” Sergeant Major said “He’s going to see the UNSC Medical Corps for treatment.”

“But he’s not sick or injured.” Carolina said.

“...You’re kidding me, right?” Sergeant Major took on a sudden aggressive tone “Command Sergeant Major, no disrespect… but you can’t tell me you don’t see what’s wrong with him.”

“I-,” Carolina cleared her throat “Caboose is _fine._ He’s always been like that.”

“It’s easy for a Freelancer to say that in regards to Sim Trooper, isn’t it?” 

Carolina took a step foreword, narrowing the gap between her and Sergeant Major as she loomed over the shorter woman “At ease, _Sergeant._ ” Carolina warned.

“Major Caboose has suffered _multiple_ brain injuries.” Sergeant Major was mostly undaunted, but one her hands started to shake at her side “He’s had multiple AI in his head, his suit stopped giving him oxygen for a long period of time, he drank gasoline for literal years, he fell off of a cliff onto his head _twice._ And that’s just what I know _without_ his medical file. He shouldn’t even be alive, let alone able to walk and talk. He needs help. The medications he takes are for a mental health disorder, not brain damage.” She paused, before adding with a tone she couldn't quite place, soft but bitter "I _knew_ him before he was a Stimulation Trooper, and he wasn't always like this."

_'He was a Spartan. A real Spartan, not like the cheap imitations Project Freelancer tried to make their Agents out to be.'_

Carolina took a deep breath and took a step back “...And they’re going to help him?”

“Yes.”

“They’re not going to discharge him to save costs?”

“Believe me when I say… He’s a different kind of asset to the UNSC.” Sergeant Major answered cryptically. 

“And they’ll come back? Both of ‘em?” Sarge asked, there was a weariness in his tone.

Sergeant Major nodded slowly “They’ll only be gone a month, two at most. By the time our base on Chorus is finished and we touch down on the planet, everyone except DuFresne should be there.”

“...Who-”

“Doc. Sir.”

* * *

_Approx. an hour later..._

“Hey Kai, check it out.” Tucker said to Kaikaina as she entered the Blue Base kitchen. He was facing the fridge.

“What is it?” She asked, she came closer to see there was a new piece of paper pinned to the fridge with a cat-shaped magnet.

“Carolina posted the new roster.” He said, pointing to it.

* * *

** Headquarters **

Battalion Commander: COL Sarge 

Battalion CSM: CSM McAllister, Carolina 

Battalion XO: MAJ Washington, David

OPS SGM: SGM Simmons, Richard (Sexual Harassment/Assault Response and Prevention (SHARP) Representative)

** Headquarters Company **

Company Commander: CPT Tucker, Lavernius

Company 1SG: 1SG Grif, Dexter (Master Driver) 

** Support Platoon **

1LT Grif, Kaikaina (Supply Officer and Company XO)

SFC Major, Walla L. (Human Resources)

SSG Ortez, Samuel (Training Room)

SSG Donut, Franklin D. (Armourer)

** Medic Section **

Primary Care Manager: Dr. Grey, Emily

Senior Medic: SGT DuFresne, Frank

** Maintenance Platoon **

MAJ. Caboose, Michael J. (Motor Pool CO / Equal Opportunity (EO) Representative)

CWO5 El Pesado, Lopez (Mechanic / Motor Pool Clerk)

* * *

_The Reds and Blues_

_Red Base, Iris Retirement Moon_

“No fucking way.” Grif said as he and Simmons - his husband, he reminded himself mentally with a twitch of glee - read the roster posted on the Red Base kitchen.

“Lopez has a rank now? ...And a full name?” Simmons tilted his head.

“Hey, Sergeant Major!” Grif hollered across the base.

“Yes, First Sergeant?” Her voice came from ~~the broom closet~~ her room.

“Your last name is Major?”

“That is literally what I’ve been saying, First Sergeant.”

Simmons looked down at Grif, then back to the entrance to the lounge “So… you’re not a _Sergeant Major_ … You’re a-”

“Sergeant First Class whose last name is Major. Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The maroon soldiers voice pitched up a little when he asked.

“I tried to, you guys either interrupted me, didn’t ask, or assumed I went by my full rank instead of name. Who in their right mind just goes by their rank instead of their name?”

_A-CHOOO!_

A loud sneeze sounded from Sarge’s quarters.

_To be continued…_

* * *

**Authors note:** No. Dr. Grey is not a villain or evil in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grimmons ya’ll. Honestly, with how lazy Grif is he would want to skip over the hard part of confessions and dating, getting married right away saved him a ton of time. 
> 
> Simmons and Caboose are going to be dipping out for a little bit. Some of the following chapters are going to be focused on them and their misadventures with Medical/Engineering. 
> 
> Yes. Major is Sergeant Majors last name. She was never a SGM or CSM, she’s just a Sergeant First Class (so she’d go by the title ‘Sergeant’) whose last name is Major. (Which is the last name she kept from being married. Her maiden name will be revealed later). Also, she seems to have a little bit of a Spartan superiority complex; Spartan-III's are often considered knock off Spartans, but she feels like Project Freelancer was a cheap imitation of the Spartan Program.
> 
> Kinda all over the place, I try not to stick to just humor or just seriousness for chapters, because the charm of RvB is that there’s always a humorous undertone even in serious episodes.  
> Lopez is now basically considered a person, and El Pesado / The Heavy is his ‘surname’. So his military title is now “Chief El Pesado”
> 
> Please review.


	6. Subtítulos (Subtitles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Support and Maintenance sure do spend a lot of time sitting around and talking

**Chapter 5: Subtítulos (Subtitles)**

_The Reds and Blues_

_Red Base Garage, Iris Retirement Moon_

_Approx. 3 days later…_

“You went through time and space?”

“Sí.”

( _Yes._ )

“From the very beginning of the universe itself, pre-dating time as a concept… to the present time?”

“Sí.”

( _Yes._ )

“And you decided… to _come back_ to the Reds and Blues?”

“¿Así que lo que?”

( _So what?_ )

“Don’t you… hate these guys? All you ever do is insult them, or complain about how stupid they are.”

“¿Te estás burlando de mi?”

( _Are you making fun of me?_ )

Sergeant Major put her armoured hands up defensively “No, of course not Chief El Pesado.” She said to Lopez. 

All of the newly christened Support Platoon and Maintenance Platoon were in the Red Base garage. Kaikaina and Caboose were sitting on the steel chairs beside the work desk, chatting about nail polish. Locus was doing his usual thing of leaning against the wall doing an impression of a brooding statue. And Donut and Sergeant Major were sitting on a large toolbox as they watched Lopez trying to fix the Warthog that had been busted up earlier today.

Grif and Simmons seemed to not only accept their marriage - Sergeant Major cringed remembering having to break the surprise to them - but they were actively _celebrating_ to the surprise of everybody. Not that anyone was surprised that they were together, just that they weren’t embarrassed or full of denial. So the pair grabbed several empty oil cans, and used paracord to tie them to the end of the Warthog, which they then used to do an insane joy ride around the hills, throwing around confetti, glitter and rice they stole from both bases. 

Not before Grif spray-painted ‘Just Married’ on the hood, and Simmons added ‘For about a year’ on the front bumper like a footnote. 

Somehow this evolved into Caboose proposing to Donut so they could do the same thing as them. Donut said no, but they still took the Blue Team Warthog to race Grif and Simmons, and that race turned into ‘Chicken Fight’ with the Warthogs driving headfirst into each other to see who would veer off first.

Contrary to popular belief, none of the Reds or Blues were chicken, so now both of the Warthogs were busted, and Grif and Simmons were being lectured by Doc about the dangers of the Honeymoon Phase, and also marital tax benefits.

“Hey, did you guys hear that Sarge has a crush on Washington?” Donut told them, most of them chuckled save for Locus and Lopez.

“No es lo suficientemente bueno para él.” Lopez grumbled.

( _He’s not good enough for him._ )

“Oh come on Lopez, Washington isn’t so bad even if he is a _little_ loopy!” Donut replied, kicking his feet a little. Lopez stopped for a second to look over his shoulder slightly at Donut.

“No estaba hablando del Agente Washington.”

( _I wasn't talking about Agent Washington_ ) 

“That’s mean Lopez. Sarge would make an excellent husband for-....” Donut paused, and thought hard, gripping his chin for emphasis “...Someone?”

“Smooth, Donut.” Kaikaina said, painting one of Caboose’s fingernails since he couldn’t seem to stay within the borders of them. 

Sergeant Major had informed Donut on how to install Google Translate into his armour so he could understand Lopez better. He’d gone even further to also install Duolingo so his language skills could evolve. Something Sergeant Major might consider to do as well - she had been fluent when she was a little kid after all. Before the Spartan-III Program.

Kaikaina and Locus already knew Spanish, but Caboose refused and just said he ‘could read the subtitles’ when they tried convincing him to do the same. They were confused, but Lopez informed them that Caboose was a passive learner and had somehow picked up Spanish after years of exposure, something he had learned from the whole year he spent with Caboose time traveling. 

“Speaking of Ag- _Major_ Washington,” Locus suddenly said from where he was, everyone turned their head to look at him “I noticed he just walked the SGM out of the base.”

“But Walla Walla is right here.” Caboose piped up, looking over at his sister.

“For the last time Michael, it’s my _name,_ not my rank.” Sergeant Major growled, startling Donut a little as he didn’t expect her to become so aggressive out of nowhere. Caboose was unaffected though.

“Sergeant Major Simmons.” Locus corrected himself “Major Washington walked him out of Red Base a second ago.” He motioned his head to the open canopy door to the garage.

“Maybe they’re training together? They _are_ a team now.” Kaikaina pointed out “After all, that’s why all of _us_ are in here now, together.”

“Huh, I guess that’s true.” Donut replied thoughtfully, but then added “Isn’t he on like, a _super_ restrictive profile? Doc handed it to him not long after we were all promoted.”

“You think he forgot?” Kaikaina asked, concerned.

“Even if he did, he has Sergeant Major Simmons who is also aware of his profile.” Locus told them “I do not think he would let him push himself.”

“Simmons would push himself _for_ Major Washington.” Caboose said, trying to blow on the still-wet polish on his nails, which he didn’t seem to notice wouldn’t work with his helmet still on. Kaikaina shook her head dismissively and gently took his much larger hand into her own, and fanned his nails with her other hand. 

Donut tilted his head “What do you mean, Caboose?”

“Major Washington wants them both to train hard, and I know because he and me and Tucker would all train hard together, but uh, he can’t train as hard as one people right now. So Simmons is going to try to train as hard as two people.” 

“That’s… Interesting. Why would he try to do that?” Sergeant Major joined in on the conversation. On an administrative level, she knew almost everything about these people. On a personal level, she didn’t know them well because she had only been with them for a few short weeks. 

“He wants Major Washington to love him.” Caboose explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world “Not uh, not like uhhh Grif loves him, but like how Sarge loves him or maybe how he hopes Sarge loves him? Sarge says all he feels is hate and violence and red and I don’t know if red is like love.” He rambled on something about Valentines Day... and Firetrucks. 

“You know,” Donut hummed appreciatively, “that _does_ sound like Simmons. He’s always been desperate for approval.”

Now that Sergeant Major thought about it, she remembered his UNSC files saying something about that - before Project Freelancer picked him up because of his psychological similarities to the Desert Gulch Red team member, Private First Class Kelly Gene, he’d been rated poorly by his superiors for his constant need for attention. She’d assumed at the time she read it that it was a need for attention in general, from anyone. From what they were saying, Simmons wanted validation from higher-ups.

That was something she could understand. She’d had a few soldiers like that, but usually only when they were junior enlisted, and they generally grew out of it by the time they became Specialist or Sergeant. 

It was surprising for someone like Sergeant Major Simmons though, to _still_ be like that; he’d been second-in-command to the Blood Gulch Reds as long as they’d been a team, he’d been a Captain in a Civil War with his own team, he’d seen his own CO betray them, he was an Ops Sergeant Major now. Why would he still be like that?

“Should we do something about it?” Locus asked the rest of the group.

Everyone else looked at each other.

“Nah.” The rest said in unison, including Lopez, continuing what they had been doing; much to the quiet disappointment of Locus who honestly had expected as much.

* * *

“Remember Wash, light jogging, not running.”

“I know, Simmons.”

“Doc was very specific on getting warmed up, but not losing your breath or getting winded.”

“I _know_ , Simmons.”

“Perhaps we should just do calisthenics for tod-”

Washington snapped “God damn it Simmons, SHUT UP!” He yelled irritably, rearing up against the former Sim Trooper; it didn’t work to well because Simmons was much taller than him, but it didn’t stop Simmons from taking a shocked step back, one arm up defensively and the other ghosting near the combat knife strapped on his thigh on reflex.

“Wash?” Simmons inquired, slightly shaky.

Washington took in a deep breath and backed up a little “I’m sorry.” He said, though his tone was still a little testy “It’s just- I don’t need to be babysat, Simmons.”

Simmons straightened up, tilting his head slightly but not in a curious way. “What’s the weight limit?” He asked, simply.

Washington snapped his gaze back up at Simmons. “What?”

“How much weight are you allowed to lift, according to your profile, Wash?”

“...Fifty kilo-”

“ _Pounds._ Your profile states you cannot pick up more than fifty pounds, less than half of what you just said.”

“That’s an honest mistake.”

“How long are you allowed to stand in formation in full armour? How long in uniform?” Simmons pressed, and Washington didn’t answer, seeming to struggle where he stood “What exercises do you have to modify, and what are the alternatives to exercises you’re not supposed to do at all?”

“...Simmons.” Washington’s voice was testy.

“ _Sir._ ” Simmons… challenged? His tone was tighter than Washington was used to hearing. “I’m trying to help you. I understand you want to train and get back up to speed. But I’m not letting you hurt yourself. There’s limits to what you can do, and we have to work around them.”

Washington was silent now. His arms hanging limply at his side, and his head tipped down slightly as if ashamed, before snapping his head back up. “Your technique could use some work.”

“...Excuse me?” One could imagine Simmons blinking in surprise behind his visor.

“I saw you reaching for your combat knife. You were using the motion used for quick magazine change, it’s different when you’re drawing a knife.”

“...”

“Let me show you.”

It wasn’t an apology, but it was progress.

From several yards away hidden by the curve of the foothills stood a kneeling orange figure, watching them with the zoom function of his helmet “If it wasn’t so hot this time, I’d wonder why he wasn’t standing up for himself like that before.” He snarked, looking over his shoulder slightly at his partner.

“Urgh, gross.” Tucker muttered from behind him, crossing his arms “I _thought_ I’d like having you two finally admit you liked each other. I didn’t expect you to be so lovey-dovey.”

“Suffer.” Grif grunted, but his tone dripped with the day-dreamy feelings associated with a newlywed.

“Urgh, whatever, did you bring your sword or not? We’re supposed to be training.”

“You don’t think I’m _sharp_ enough-”

“Dude I swear to god, if you say one more-”

“But I do get your _point._ ” Grif grabbed the hilt magnetized to his side and activated his Vorpal Talon energy sword in time with his pun.

* * *

“-then I stood up, started walking towards him screaming, ‘Man, get out my house!’ Then he yells ‘Freeze!’, she screams ‘Please!’, I pull my beretta out-” 

“ _That’s_ why you're divorced?” Donut gasped, interrupting Sergeant Major’s story mid-sentence.

Sergeant Major put her hands down, no longer using them to make wild gestures while talking “Wait, you wanted to know _that_? I thought you wanted to know why I was banned from Fort Drum.”

“I think that story needed to be told in E Major.” Caboose added unhelpfully.

Lopez looked to Locus “No creo que haya pasado nada de eso.” The robot said.

( _I don't think any of that happened._ )

Locus didn’t move “Acordado.” The former merc replied.

( _Agreed._ )

“I got banned from Brazzers.” Kaikaina chirped, then sighed longingly and regretfully. 

“Yo creo eso.” Lopez snarked, making Kaikaina giggle to herself.

( _I believe that._ )

“Sir?” Locus suddenly inquired - perhaps to change the subject - looking over to the Blue soldier.

“Yes, Staff Sergeant?” Caboose said, looking up from Freckles in his arms.

Locus took a knee so he could kneel down between Kaikaina and Caboose, and turned to the younger man “Are you prepared for your trip with the Ops Sergeant Major in a few days?”

“Errr, uhm, yeahhh-” Caboose paused to think “I _don’t_ think doctors are scary. Not even the ones with needles, and no lollipops.... or orange juice.” Something in his tone wasn’t very convincing. That something being everything.

“Michael, are you still scared of needles?” Sergeant Major asked her brother, looking over from the toolbox.

“NO!” He replied.

His extremely obvious fear and reluctance must have set Freckles off, because the light on the Assault Rifle suddenly blinked on “ _Scanning potential threats._ ” The tiny robot said.

“Please don’t.” Donut said in somewhat of a whimper.

“Down, Freckles.” Caboose chastised, with a little bit of a whistle. The light on his rifle blinked out.

“You’ve _always_ been scared of needles, Caboose?” Kaikaina asked.

“No! But when we were doing testing to graduate from High School, they were testing us with shots.”

Sergeant Major narrowed her eyes a little behind her visor. They never went to high school; for some reason, he seemed convinced that the military was college abroad, and Beta Company was High School… and they, and all of their ‘sisters’ were drop-outs after failing ‘standardized testing’. Which probably meant augmentations.

“They… tested you with shots?” Donut asked, tilting his head thoughtfully.

Locus appeared to be taking what Caboose was saying seriously “Are you referring to a vaccine drive?” He asked.

“Yes.” Caboose said while nodding a little too much; chances were he wasn’t exactly sure himself and just wanted to agree with Locus to be popular. He suddenly looked over to Sergeant Major “Do you remember? The shots gave me a headache. And an eyeache. And a skeletonache. And a-”

“Yes, I remember.” She cut him off before he could confuse her further. Keeping their story straight was hard when one of them remembered the whole thing wrong and the other had to constantly play catch-up.

She hadn’t been there to see what happened during Caboose’s own augmentations; but what she heard later on when they were on Humble Team was that he had a massive meltdown mere hours after receiving the augmenting injections. It took several full grown instructors to keep him, but he still ended up destroying walls, furniture, equipment and instructors bones.

Not that her own were a walk in the park… she already had a hard time muting out stimuli with her then-untreated Autism, there was always simply _too_ much; but as one of the augmentations reworked her mind and senses, it became _sharper, brighter,_ too _much_ , too _loud-_

“A lot of the teachers were mad because we reacted bad...” Caboose said, his tone didn’t falter from it’s usual high-pitched and dopey. She wondered briefly… was he better off this way? Blissfully ignorant of the sheer amount of trauma he went through growing up?

“Let’s not talk about… school, Michael.” She said, sliding off of the tool box and onto the floor so she could hug her knees and lean her back against the box for support “These Doctors will be much nicer… and you won’t be alone. In fact, you and Sergeant Major Simmons are going to be together the whole time because you both need to be seen by Medical, and Engineering.”

“Why do I need to go to engineering?” The blue Major asked. "They said you can't go there if you can't see colour right."

The rest of the combined platoon looked to her, also curious. They knew that Simmons had to see the Medical Branch, and Engineering because of his cybernetic nature; but Caboose wasn’t a cyborg and he wasn’t harboring advanced tech or armour enhancements.

“The PCM will brief you when she picks you up, along side the Engineering liaison.” Sergeant Major replied simply, with a shrug.

Locus stiffened “Dr. Grey is coming?” If if wasn’t for his having such a collected tone, Sergeant Major would have sword that he was… panicked.

“What the hell,” she muttered, looking around the room “do _all_ of you know Dr. Grey of Chorus?”

“I don’t!” Kaikaina replied “Is she hot?”

“Oh uh, uhm Tucker said not to put stickers on Dr. Grey.” Caboose said to his yellow team mate.

Locus abruptly stood up “Sergeant Major,” he said to the tan-armoured soldier, who simply hummed in acknowledgement “where did you say you put that Mark-VI helmet?”

_To be continued..._

* * *

**Sergeant Major music references**

“-then I stood up, start walking toward him screaming, ‘Man, get out my house!’ Then he yells ‘Freeze!’ She screams ‘Please!’ I pulled my beretta out-” [ "Trapped in the Closet, Chapter 6" - R.Kelly ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNeITqRV3VQ)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a chill chapter, mostly me having some fun, with a little bit of set-up. I see Grif has the sword still in some of the newer PSA's, so fuck it he should keep it.  
> There's methods to the madness of the command teams is all I want to say, but for now; knife!Simmons X sword!Grif  
> Caboose is really hard to write for, so again a lot of his dialogue is ironic in a way; such as him claiming he can read subtitles. When he says Sergeant Majors story should have been told in 'E Major' it's because the 'Trapped in the Closet' saga follows a distinctive E Major music pattern. Him saying that Tucker told him to not put stickers on Doctor Grey, is a reference to the time that Tucker told him "Don't stick your dick in crazy" in regards to Dr.Grey.  
> Fort Drum is an army base in New York.


End file.
